


Man's Best Friend

by sirriamnis



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: M/M, OOC, Other, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-22 19:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirriamnis/pseuds/sirriamnis
Summary: After the mixed success of the Winter Soldier, Hydra and the Soviets turned their attentions to animal tests.  Hemingway and his descendants are the results of those experiments, and they have their own ideas about how to get back at Hydra for everything they've done.





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I write a blog called SHIELDSupportStaff on tumblr, and I created a hyper-intelligent dog character. Someone requested that I write stories about the dogs, so here we go.

The wind ruffled CS3-B7’s fur. He looked over at the man he accompanied, the man in charge of the mission, waiting for a command. The man scanned the valley through binoculars before muttering under his breath.

  
“The devil.” The man looked at CS3-B7, eyes narrowing, and CS3-B7 could not help his tail wagging when he did, ears going forward. “Find him. Do not be seen.”

  
CS3-B7 boofed softly, and crawled down the side of the rise, staying low and scenting the air. The mission had holed up in small depression, curled up on itself, crying softly. CS3-B7 paused. Its orders were find, not kill the mission himself. He paused. The man had a gun, a long gun. CS3-B7 nodded to himself, then lunged into the depression, snarling, grabbing the mission by a limb and dragging them out of cover. The mission screamed and flailed, a blade in one hand. The blade caught CS3-B7’s ear and he yelped, letting go of the limb. The mission stood straighter, blade poised to stab, and a distant crack reached CS3-B7’s ears, as the mission collapsed backwards, a neat, round hole in the center of their forehead, a spray of red and grey matter on the ground behind them. CS3-B7 paused, then started back to the man.

  
The man looked at CS3-B7’s torn ear.

  
“Injury within acceptable parameters.” He glared at the dog over the edge of his mask, then nodded, and turned. The two of them made their way to the extraction point.

 

CS3-B7 woke up with a start, trying to wag a tail he mostly no longer had. The other dogs from the program slept curled up around him. They’d found a greenbelt to call home, though they would range far out of the city when they had to, to avoid capture. The female the nice white coat had called Snuggles insisted they stay close enough to check on the location where the white coats had kept them. Her mate Caesar had found the kind white coat’s littermate, and had left with her. CS3-B7, no, Hemingway the nice one had called him, shook himself getting to his feet. He boofed at the others, and jogged to the place to see if anyone had come. As he got closer, he slowed. Two men. One of whom smelled very, very familiar. The other was Captain Rogers.

  
He stared, and walked forward, slowly, ears and tail down. The man. The man from the missions. His silver arm hidden beneath a jacket, he stood with Captain Rogers, eyes staring at the new construction going up on the place where the lab had been.

  
“Stevie, I, I almost killed you here.” The man’s voice, but he spoke English, and it sounded, it betrayed emotion. “Christ, Steve…”

  
“I know, Buck.” Captain Rogers put a hand on his shoulder. “But you didn’t. You remembered. You came back to me.”

  
The man turned and yanked Captain Rogers into his arms. Hemingway gave a startled bark.

  
The man froze, and turned, tears glittering in his eyes.

  
“No. It can’t be.”

  
“What is it, Buck? It’s just a stray…”

<Come here.> The command came in Russian, and he couldn’t stop himself, Hemingway slunk forward, keeping his head down.

  
“Jesus, Buck. He’s huge!”

  
“The ear. I remember.” The man dropped to his knees in front of Hemingway and reached for him. Hemingway cringed, but let the man touch him. The man rubbed his ears. Hemingway startled at the unexpected affection. The man ran his hands through the thick fur and found Hemingway’s collar. Pushing the fur out of the way, he turned it to read the plate. “CS3-B7. It is you.”

  
“CS3, what?” Captain Rogers watched the two of them.

  
“Canine Subject three, Batch seven.” The man closed his eyes for a moment. “I hate that I remember that.”

  
Hemingway whined and licked the man’s face, then shook his head. The nice white coat, Holman, had taught Hemingway, all of them, English and how to read it. Caesar had figured out how to write, and had taken the time to show them how. Painstakingly, he wrote ‘Hemingway’ in the dirt at their feet.

  
“Hemingway? Someone named you Hemingway?” Captain Rogers blinked, staring at the rough letters. Hemingway rolled in the dirt erasing the word, then wrote out, “Nice white coat.”

  
“A white coat, a scientist. A scientist was nice to you. Who?” The man still knelt on the ground. Hemingway licked his face again, and went to roll. Captain Rogers seemed to get the idea, and scuffed out some of the letters.

“Holman. Hydra kill him. I kill Hydra.”

  
“You, you killed Hydra?” The man laughed long and hard, not a happy sound, though. “That’s two of us, buddy.” Hemingway looked meaningfully at Captain Rogers and then the ground. The Captain stepped forward and scuffed out the words.

  
“Assholes.” Hemingway wrote the profanity, very pleased with himself. Neither Holman nor Caesar had taught him that, he’d sounded that one out on his own.

  
“You got that right.” Captain Rogers laughed. “How long have you been out here? Are there more of you?”

  
What Hemingway wouldn’t give for those alphabet building blocks Holman had used to teach them how to read.

  
“3 snows.” Hemingway looked at them. “Yes, more.”

  
“They’ve been out here since the Helicarriers fell.” The man rubbed Hemingway’s ears again.

  
“Buck, we can’t leave them out here exposed to the elements.” Captain Rogers frowned. “They need homes, and…”

  
“Steve, they’re part of the same programs that made you and me.” The man looked up at Captain Rogers. “There aren’t a lot of people set up to deal with people like this, let alone dogs the size of small ponies with raging cases of PTSD.”

  
“Maybe Sam…” Captain Rogers blushed when the man looked at him like he was an idiot.

  
“Holman littermate. New York.” Hemingway looked up at the two of them.

  
“Holman littermate… a sibling? New York?” Captain Rogers looks at the Man and Hemingway. “I’m going to call Ethel.”

  
“Ethel?” The man rested his hand on Hemingway’s back. Hemingway leaned into the touch. The man had never been affectionate before, he had almost never displayed any emotion other than anger, something changed. He said Hemingway wasn’t the only one who killed Hydra.

  
“She’s, she’s hard to explain.” Captain Rogers took a deep breath. “She remembers us from before. Just, trust me on this one.” Captain Rogers pulled out his cell phone. “Hi, Ethel. Yeah, yeah, we’re down in DC. You got anyone named Holman… Oh, yeah, the girl with the pastel hair. Her brother… It’s a the damnedest thing, but does she have a do… Yeah, we found… Buck knows him, from before.” Captain Rogers paused. “Caesar says tell them it’s safe to come in from the cold.”

  
Hemingway’s ears perked up and he danced in place in front of Captain Rogers.

  
“I think the dog wants to talk to you.” Captain Rogers frowned and looked at the man.

  
“Caesar.” Hemingway stepped back to paw the word in the dirt.

  
“He wants to talk to Caesar.” Captain Rogers’s eyebrows went up toward his hairline. “She says it will be a minute or two.”

  
Hemingway sat down.

  
“Uh, yeah, everything’s great, Ethel. Buck’s remembering a lot of things. We’re working up to heading back to the city, after we take care of this.”

  
“He’s coming with us, Stevie. I’m not leaving him behind again.” The man looked up at Captain Rogers. “They made me leave him behind a couple of times, every time I’d wake up he’d be there, though. He must be close to 20 years old now.”

  
“Apart from the scarring, that, that looks like a young dog, Buck.”

  
“Trust me, Stevie. This dog is at least 20 years old.”

  
Hemingway cocked his head watching the two of them.

  
“What? Oh, you have Caesar there, hold on.” Captain Rogers lowered the phone, and Hemingway boofed and growled. Then boofed again and stepped back. Once he stepped back he howled. A group of dogs just over 20 of them came out of the bushes and shrubs, including at least one very pregnant female, and a few pups.

  
“Holy… Ethel? We’re gonna need a couple vans.” Captain Rogers watched as the dogs, even the young ones fell into a very orderly formation, Hemingway at the front.

  
While they waited, Hemingway growled, barked, and two of the dogs whined, and exposed their throats, before bounding off back through the shrubbery.

  
“What’s with that?” The man stood up, brushing the dirt from his knees.

  
“Insurance.” The pregnant female wrote the word this time.

  
Hemingway walked up to the man and nosed his flesh hand. The man rubbed his head, around the missing ear.

  
“They sound like you and Nat, Buck.” Captain Rogers held the phone to his ear. “Yeah, just, uh, make sure we can trust whoever it is because I’m pretty sure Buck’ll take anyone apart who tries to touch these dogs.”

  
“The same people trained, well, trained Hemingway as trained me and Natalia.” The man’s eyes scanned the assembled dogs. “None of your littermates made it, did they, fella?”

  
“No. Only survivor.” Hemingway scratched in the dirt, then looked up at the man and licked his hand again.

  
Three vans showed up. Hemingway would not be separated from the man and growled at the one agent who suggested it.

  
“We’ll ride to New York with the dogs, it’s ok.” Captain Rogers smiled a tight smile, watching the agents. Holman had been SHIELD, not HYDRA. Captain Rogers had been SHIELD, not HYDRA. “Ethel swears to me she only sent trustworthy guys, and ladies, Buck.”

  
“I’m not the one you have to convince, Stevie.” The man nodded toward Hemingway, who stood stiffly at alert.

  
“Hemingway. I trust Ethel. Believe me, she killed anyone we couldn’t trust that might have been missed in the attack and the immediate aftermath.” Captain Rogers crouched to be on Hemingway’s level. “Short lady, gray hair, smokes like a chimney.”

  
Hemingway turned to regard Captain Rogers. Smoke, yes, the old bitch who bossed the others around. Hemingway nodded. He liked her. She would sneak them little treats, in spite of what the asshole white coats said. They called her the ‘old bitch.’ Ethel.

  
“It’s only a couple of hours drive to the city.” Steve stood up again. “Although we’ll have to take breaks to give the dogs a chance to run around a bit.”

The man and Captain Rogers rode in the van with Hemingway and Snuggles. There had been introductions written in the dirt before the vans got there. Hemingway leaned against the man, resting his chin on the man’s thigh. The man never would have allowed this before. Now it seemed to soothe him. He stroked Hemingway’s head as they rode north.

 

The vans pulled into the parking garage of Stark Tower. Caesar stood by the elevators, with him was the light haired littermate of Holman. The agents opened the doors and dogs bounded out to see Caesar. Snuggles waddled up to her mate and they licked each other’s faces, tails wagging. Pups got underfoot.

  
“Mr. Stark said he put aside one of the big suites for the dogs until we move them up north.” Cassidy patted Caesar’s head.

  
Hemingway stayed close to the man. Caesar was here. He could lead the pack for awhile, Hemingway exhaled loudly. The man looked down at him.

  
“I understand, pal. Let’s go up to our room while the kids get comfortable.” The man smiled, smiled at Hemingway. The stump of Hemingway’s tail wagged, and he followed the man and Captain Rogers into an elevator.

  
“Your floor, Captain Rogers?” The elevator spoke in a female voice. Hemingway’s ears went back and he looked around… There. In the ceiling, a speaker. He relaxed.

  
“Uh, yes, Friday. Thank you.” Captain Rogers watched Hemingway, then looked up at the man. Not the man. Buck. The man’s name was Buck. “Buck, this guy, he’s really, really smart.”

  
“Yeah, Stevie.” The man, Buck, cracked a smile. “Best partner in the field the Winter Soldier ever had. I only wish I could’ve been nicer to him. He deserved it. Still does. Gonna make it up to you, buddy.” Buck knelt and hugged Hemingway. Hemingway’s eyes went wide and he stiffened for a moment. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Captain Rogers went first, and unlocked a door with a retinal scan. Hemingway followed them in.  
Hemingway paused just inside the door and looked around the suite. It was nice, all thick carpets and plush furniture. He whined.

  
“Ethel got us a white board and magnets like Cassidy has for Caesar.” Captain Rogers pointed it out.  
Hemingway walked over to it, tail down.

  
“Kennel?” He nosed magnets around.

  
“No kennel. You sleep anywhere you want, Hemingway.” The man dropped to his knees again. “Pal, you saved my life several times. I remember. You got a home here with me and Stevie as long as you want, you got that?”

  
Hemingway nodded, and licked the man’s face.

  
“So, ah, for bathroom facilities, the best we can do right now is this patch of grass on the balcony. Tony says he’ll send someone up to take care of it for us.” Steve pointed. “You can let one of us know you need…”

  
Hemingway walked over, nosed the lock, then pushed the door open.

  
“…Or you can let yourself out.” Steve shook his head. “I may as well apologize because I’m gonna keep forgetting how smart you are.”

  
Hemingway went out, christened his patch of grass and came back inside, nosing the door shut behind him, then went to sit next to Buck again.

  
“What do we…? Bucky, we’ve never had a dog before. How do we take care of him?” Captain Rogers waved an arm and Hemingway pressed against Buck. Bucky. Both names meant the man.

  
“Didn’t Stark hire a vet or something to take care of Jesus’s dog?” Bucky let his hand ruffle the fur on Hemingway’s head. “Friday, we got someone we can talk to about taking care of Hemingway?”

  
‘Taking care of…’ Hemingway shook his head. Bucky meant actually taking care of, not what the asshole white coats had meant by that phrase. He relaxed.

  
“Isis says that she will be down as soon as she is done settling the others. She is very distressed by the state of them, and has suborned several concierges and agents, as well as Kennedy to help give dogs baths and flea treatments. She recommends the same for your companion.”

  
“How about it, buddy? You want a bath, get rid of any fleas?” Hemingway shook his head. Bucky laughed.

  
“Isis is sending a concierge with dog shampoo and flea treatment. Also, Mr. Stark will be up shortly to remove your companion’s collar. It seems it has a small explosive device in it.”

  
Hemingway and Bucky both froze.

  
“Assholes.” Bucky glared. “Good thing I didn’t try to take that thing off you, pal.”

  
Hemingway nodded.

  
A few minutes later the door opened, and a young man in black slacks and a polo shirt brought in a small basket of dog grooming supplies, followed by Tony Stark.

  
“Hey, there, Tin Man, Ilsa… whoa, where did you get a bear?” Tony Stark, dark hair, dark eyes, shorter than Bucky and Captain Rogers stopped in the doorway.

  
“This is Hemingway. He’s the last survivor of the first successful canine tests of the serum.” Bucky rubbed Hemingway’s head. “He was my partner on several missions, and he’s as smart as any human being, so watch it, Stark.”

  
“The Russians named him Hemingway?” Tony had a small scanner looking thing with him and he fiddled with it.

  
“No, Cassidy’s brother named him Hemingway. The Russians and Hydra called him CS3-B7.” Bucky looked down at Hemingway. “So did the Winter Soldier.”

  
Hemingway whined and nosed Bucky’s hand. He seemed sad.

  
“It’s ok, buddy. It wasn’t either of our faults what they made us do.” Bucky rubbed his head.

  
“Was he part of…?”

  
“Tony, Bucky was on a motorcycle. Did you see a dog in that clip?” Captain Rogers rolled his eyes at Tony Stark.

  
“I don’t know. It’s a super smart spy dog. For all I know it was the motorcycle. Except, it looks bigger.” Tony Stark kept fiddling. “Oh, son of a…. They used my Dad’s tech. I will murder…” Hemingway ran to the white board.

  
“Too late. Already dead.”

  
Tony’s jaw dropped as Hemingway nosed the letters into words.

  
“Who killed them?” Tony stared at the dog.

  
“The pack. Killed Asshole Hydra white coats. They killed Holman. Nice white coat.”

  
“Hydra killed Cassidy’s brother, and the dogs killed them.” Captain Rogers translated.

  
“Yeah, I got that, Bird’s Eye.” Tony shook his head and walked toward the dog.

  
“Bird’s eye? Isn’t that Clint?” Bucky snickered, looking up from where the other man was explaining the contents of the basket.

  
“I’m running out of frozen food companies, and I refuse to call him ‘Hungry Man.’ Even if it is apt.” Tony knelt next to Hemingway. “Jesus, how much is this guy gonna eat?”

  
“Ideal caloric intake, 4500 calories per day.” Hemingway nosed the letters around. “Prefer meat.”

  
“Friday, tell Pepper we need to acquire a raw pet food company.” Tony looked at Hemingway. “That go for the others?”

  
“Mothers and Puppies, 2x normal.” Hemingway looked over at him.

  
“And a herd of cattle or bison or something.” Tony looked at Hemingway. “Ok, pal. This might sting or singe some fur. You’re not going to take my arm off if it does, are you?”

  
Hemingway shook his head.

  
“This is close to the weirdest day of my life.” Tony shook his head and held up the thing in his hand. It did singe some hair, and Hemingway flinched once. But then the collar fell off. Tony caught it. “I’ll get rid of the bomb. You guys have a good rest of the day. And feed this guy, he looks a little underweight.” Tony patted Hemingway’s shoulder and stood.

  
Hemingway leaned over and nosed at the white board.

  
“Thanks.” Then a moment later. “Birds eye + Clint = Hawkeye?”

  
“I need a drink.” Tony shook his head. “You guys have fun with Einstein here.”

  
“Hemingway.” Bucky and Captain Rogers corrected him in concert. Hemingway let his tongue loll out in laughter.

  
“Right. Hemingway. Bye.” Stark left.

  
“Where Hawkeye?” Hemingway looked up at them.

  
“He’s, uh, his family has a place. Why?” Captain Rogers frowned.

  
“Needs a dog. Protection. Flying man, too.”

  
“Flying man… you mean Sam?” Captain Rogers’s jaw dropped like Tony’s had a few minutes before. Hemingway decided he like shocking the humans in pleasant ways.

  
“Brown skin, wings. Flying man.” Hemingway nodded.

  
“I’ll ask.” Captain Rogers rubbed his head. “Wow, this is going to take some getting used to.”

  
“Show him the dogs, I bet he can’t resist. They’re cute.” Bucky smiled at Hemingway. “Let’s get you a bath, pal. And then we put this stuff on your neck that sinks in and poisons the fleas so we don’t have to keep bathing you.”

  
“No bath.” Hemingway spelled the words and hunkered down.

  
“You need a bath, buddy. You smell like swamp and you have fleas.” Bucky paused, eyes going wide. “This isn’t like Hydra. We’ll use warm water, in a nice tub and wrap you up in blankets after if you get cold. Like Stevie does with me when I’m having a bad day.”

  
Hemingway slowly came out of his crouch and looked hard at Bucky, before nosing “OK” into place on the board, and letting himself be led into the bathroom. The bathroom was huge, and echoed. Hemingway experimented with a sharp bark. Bucky turned on the water, and adjusted it.

  
“See if that’s ok.”

  
Hemingway’s ears went back but he poked his nose under the water.

  
“Warmer?” Bucky waited for an answer. Hemingway nodded. After the adjustment, Hemingway stuck his nose under it again, and nodded.

  
“Ok. One of us should lift you in. If you jump in, you’ll probably slip and get water everywhere.” Bucky looked at him. “And, uh, at least one of us is going to have to get in with you to scrub you down.”

  
Hemingway sighed, and nodded.

  
Bucky crouched and picked him up, lowering him gently into the water, which only reached a couple inches up the side of the tub. Hemingway’s feet twitched. Bucky set him down, not letting go until he was standing solidly. He looked over at Steve. “Me or you, Stevie?”

  
Steve lifted an eyebrow.

  
“Fine.” Bucky pulled his shirt off over his head, and shucked out of his jeans, leaving him in his underwear. “Get me a glove so the plates in my hand don’t catch in his fur.”

  
Steve laughed, and got him a nitrile glove. Bucky slipped it on his hand, and climbed into the tub with Hemingway, whose ears went back.

  
“It’s just me buddy. Uh, Stevie, get me a… oh, there’s a hand held shower head thingy, great.” He held it down and hit the governor switch, making sure it ran warm before he started to wet down Hemingway. “Is this even reaching your skin? Christ you have a lot of fur.”

  
“What breed is he?” Captain Rogers leaned against the sink, watching.

  
“Caucasian Ovcharka and Russian Wolfhound.” Friday supplied, startling all three of them.

  
“Friday, in the bathroom? Geez!” Captain Rogers turned red.

  
“I respect your privacy, Captain. However, I wanted to monitor in case you needed help or guidance with Hemingway.”

  
“I take it you found the files.” Bucky had finally succeeded in getting water down through the fur to his skin and Hemingway twitched.

  
“After you lather him, make sure you rinse very thoroughly so he does not itch. Also, a concierge is bringing a drain filter for the tub, and Isis will be down shortly.” There was a pause. “Yes. I did. The process to create Hemingway and subsequent generations was not as cruel as those tactics used on the Winter Soldier. He came many years later, after advances in the technology. Also, they decided to work with the natural tendencies of both breeds toward loyalty and pack hierarchy.”

  
“I see. So Hemingway has never been wiped.” Bucky, after finally getting Hemingway thoroughly soaked, reached for the shampoo. “Pleasant fresh scent. Don’t be girly.” He opened the bottle and sniffed. “Huh, that’s not bad at all.” He squeezed some out onto Hemingway’s back and started to scrub, his fingers digging through the fur to reach his skin. “This feels vaguely familiar.”

  
“A mission to Uzbekistan. Tear gas. You bathed Hemingway in a river to remove residual tear gas from his fur before extraction.” Friday’s voice was soothing, with a slight Irish lilt to it. Hemingway was getting used to her. Hemingway remembered the tear gas, snot and tears running from his eyes and nose like rivers, drool. They had completed the mission, both of them injured and vomiting. His ears went back and he whined.

  
“Yeah, I remember that one, too, fella.” Bucky sighed, continuing to scrub. “Have to thank this Holman guy’s littermate for what he did for you and the other dogs.”

  
Hemingway whined in frustration at the lack of white board for communication.

  
“Isis is here. May I let her in?” Friday’s voice chimed.

  
“Yes.” Captain Rogers snickered.

  
“Thanks, punk. Love you, too.” Bucky snorted, continuing to scrub.

“I know you do, jerk.” Captain Rogers’ face softened. Hemingway’s ears went up.

  
“Captain Rogers, Sgt. Barnes… oh, uh, Hi!” The young woman had darker skin than Captain Rogers or Bucky, and he could smell chemicals from her hair. She wore a t-shirt and denim pants and blushed, looking at Bucky in the bathtub with Hemingway.

  
“Hi.” Bucky’s fingers tightened infinitesimally in Hemingway’s fur, but he kept his voice light. “This is Hemingway. We worked together before I came back.”

  
“He is, wow, even bigger than the others.” She cleared her throat. “Hi, Hemingway, I’m Isis. I am a pet nutritionist and veterinary assistant, meaning I can do some vet stuff, like shots and stitches. Things like that. Mostly, I just tell everyone what to feed their pets, and devise exercise regimens they’ll stick to.”

  
“We had to do some fast talking to get him in the tub.” Captain Rogers remained leaning against the sink.

  
“Hydra washed him like they washed me. With a high powered hose, freezing water and probably wire brushes.” Bucky shuddered, and Hemingway looked back at him over his shoulder and whined. “Yeah, buddy. They were jerks.”

  
“From the scars I’ve seen on some of the others, they were worse than jerks.” Isis’s back stiffened. “They were fucking assholes. Sorry, Cap.”

  
“No, that is pretty much my assessment.” Captain Rogers did blush.

  
“Yeah, apparently Caesar did all the talking for me.” Isis shrugged. “Still a little annoyed Cass didn’t tell me sooner. I thought we were friends, but I get it.”

  
“Yeah, I don’t know how many people I would talk to about that sort of thing.” Captain Rogers shrugged.

  
“So, I brought you guys some raw food diet for him. A dog his size should eat about two pounds…”

  
“He told Stark he needed about 4500 calories a day.” Bucky reached around to scrub Hemingway’s chest.

  
“Five pounds a day. I’ll order more straight away. I also have a recipe that the chefs here can replicate, so that’ll go a little easier on Stark’s pocketbook. Cass said she knew how much the others would need after dealing with Caesar. He eats substantially less than that.”

  
“Later generation.” Bucky scrubbed down Hemingway’s front legs. “Gotta do your belly, fella. You gonna be ok with that?”

  
Hemingway nodded.

  
“I cannot get over this. How many languages does he understand. Cass said that Caesar understands a little German and some Tagalog, as well as English.”

  
“Well, I know he understands Russian, because that’s what I spoke when we worked together.” Bucky scrubbed his belly, and down his rear legs, and his stump of a tail.

  
“Wow. How, how old do you think he is?” Isis looked at him. “I’d say no more than five or so.”

  
“He’s at least twenty.” Bucky turned on the shower head again and started rinsing Hemingway’s fur, ruffling it with his fingers to get down to the skin and get all the soap.

  
“According to the files, Hemingway was born in 1972.” Friday responded to Isis’s question.

  
“No shit. That dog is 45. Fuck me.” Isis’s jaw dropped. Captain Rogers blushed again.

  
“Uh, I guess. I’m still not good with time yet.” Bucky rinsed Hemingway all over. “Now. Let me or Stevie lift you out of the tub.”

  
“He’ll need to shake.” Isis stepped back. Hemingway looked pointedly at the glassed in shower.

  
“Right.” Captain Rogers looked down at his shirt, and pulled it over his head, before bending over to scoop Hemingway up in his arms and lift him out.

  
“Best day ever.” Isis whispered from behind Captain Rogers, who blushed as he set Hemingway down on the floor, and he padded, squelched into the shower, looking pointedly at Steve, who closed the door. Then Hemingway shook, repeatedly, for a good three minutes. Dog hair and water coated the inside of the shower stall.

  
“Uh, Friday, can we get housecleaning up here after this.” Captain Rogers stared at the wreckage of his shower, and cautiously opened the door.

  
A damp, but not sopping Hemingway walked out. Isis grabbed a towel.

  
“May I?” She waited.

  
Hemingway nodded. She stepped in and started rubbing him roughly to get more of the water out of his fur.

  
“You should fire up that fireplace in your living room. I brought up a big comfy dog bed, we can set it there with a blanket or two and let the fire dry him. Because this undercoat is going to take forever.” She kept rubbing.  
Bucky pulled the plug on the tub, after putting the drain guard down. After a few moments it stopped draining. He set it and pulled up the drain guard, covered in Hemingway’s fur.

  
“This is worse than the first time I washed my hair after I got away from Hydra.” He cleared it into the wastebasket and repeated the process six more times before the tub drained, twice more as he rinsed it, and once more as he rinsed off himself. Isis pretended not to be watching from the corner of her eye.

  
“Could the three of you clear out so I can get dressed?” Bucky looked up at them. Both Steve and Isis blushed. Bucky winked at one of them. Hemingway led the other two out, and walked over to the white board.

  
“Food?” He looked up at Captain Rogers and Isis.

  
“Oh, yes. I brought bowls for food and water, the dog bed, I’ll move that over in a bit.” She rushed to the kitchen to dish something that smelled amazing to Hemingway. He rushed over to dance around next to her. “I hope you like how it tastes as much as you like how it smells.” She set it on the floor and he started to wolf it down, then made himself slow down and, if not savor it, then at least pace himself so he didn’t get sick.

  
While he ate, Captain Rogers and Isis moved the dog bed over to the fireplace and Captain Rogers lit the fire, a gas fire. Not as good as wood, but still warming. He went to put on a shirt and get some blankets. Isis filled up the water bowl and set it next to the food bowl. Hemingway drank eagerly.

  
Captain Rogers came back out with the blankets and draped them over the dog bed. Bucky followed him.

  
“Now.” Isis showed them a brush. “This will get the loose hair out of his undercoat. He should get a good brushing at least twice a week, although once a day would be ideal.”

  
Hemingway walked over to the white board and nosed the letters into “Thank you,” he boofed to get their attention.  
“Oh, you’re welcome, sweetheart.” Isis walked over and rubbed his ears. Ear rubbing was definitely in his top ten list of things in the world, right after Bucky and that raw dog food.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I heard there were puppies.” That voice. Hemingway’s head whipped around and he snarled, stalking forward toward the redhead standing at the door. 
> 
> “Bozhe moi! That beast!” She pulled a gun. The rest of the dogs fell in behind Hemingway, the puppies skittering back behind the adults. 
> 
> “Nat! No!” Captain Rogers stood up, holding out a hand in warning.

Chapter 2

Fire laced up CS3-B7’s spine, and he yelped, more of a scream. His hind legs collapsed beneath him and he scrabbled with his front legs, regaining his grip on the mission’s leg with his teeth and growling. A loud bang and the mission stopped moving. CS3-B7 let go, panting, and looked up at the man. The man’s eyes glared, as always.  
“Injuries beyond acceptable parameters.” He pointed his gun at CS3-B7.

CS3-B7 looked up at the man, whimpering. “Beyond acceptable parameters.” He knew what that meant. At least his last sight would be of the man. He waited, watching the man. The muscles in the man’s flesh hand, the one holding the gun tensed.

“No!” The man spun away, turning his back on CS3-B7, who dragged himself forward and scrabbled at his boot.

A clean death, that’s all he wanted now. He was a good dog. He protected the man, they completed their mission. A clean death, like he deserved. The man looked back and down at him, his eyes wide, the most emotion CS3-B7 had yet seen in them.

“I can’t.” He holstered the gun, knelt and carefully picked CS3-B7 up in his arms. He whimpered a little, and licked the man’s mask. The man started to walk. “It’s ok, Hemingway. You’re ok.”

Hemingway jerked awake with a noise somewhere between a snarl and a yelp. His teeth met unyielding metal. He blinked, confused. The man, Buck, Bucky, knelt next to his bed, Hemingway’s mouth around his arm. At some point Hemingway had dragged the bed and blankets into a corner.

“You all right, Hemingway? I heard you crying.” Bucky waited patiently for Hemingway to release the metal arm.  Hemingway did, and nodded, then got to his feet and stretched. He looked toward the balcony door. First light. “Neither Stevie or I sleep much. Wanna go on our run with us?”

Hemingway wagged his tail and boofed quietly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He smiled and got to his feet. “You want to eat first or run first?”

Hemingway walked over to the board and spelled. “Run.”

“Thought you might. I woke you up long enough to feed you a little more last night, you stumbled over to the door and went out to do your thing, then dragged everything into the corner and passed out again. How long had it been since you last really slept?”

“3 snows.” Hemingway stretched again. He felt refreshed in a way he hadn’t since Holman had died. Before that it had been since his last mission with the man. He looked at Bucky, and back at the board. “Bad dreams. Paralyzed. Supposed to kill me. You didn’t. Carried me.”

“I, I remember that.” Bucky rubbed his hair. “I, they wiped me after that mission. The next time I woke up I didn’t know you, but you acted like you recognized me.”

“You = mission lead. MY mission lead.” Holman had taught them the importance of capital letters when reading them his littermate’s emails and texts. “I keep you safe. You complete mission.” Hemingway had to repurpose a few Y’s, I’s and S’s here and there. He turned back to Bucky who grabbed him in a hug, startling a yip out of the giant dog. Hemingway relaxed, and bore the hug patiently.

“Buck, everything all right?” Captain Rogers walked into the room, wearing running clothes.

“Stevie, I… fuck.” Bucky looked up and Hemingway licked his face. “This, this dog. Fuck.” He buried his face in Hemingway’s fur again. “Thank you, buddy. Thank you for every fucking time you saved my life.”

“Buck?” Captain Rogers walked over cautiously, and the desire to protect Bucky, the man, conflicted with what Holman had taught them: Captain Rogers was to be protected at all costs. He growled.

“It’s ok, Hemingway. Stevie can come close.” Bucky pulled away and wiped his face on his sleeve. “I’m ok. Hemingway reminded me of a mission. It went bad. He got wounded, bad, paralyzed his hind legs. My orders were to kill him if that happened, so he wouldn’t slow me down or fall into the wrong hands. I couldn’t. I carried him for two days until he healed enough to walk again. We were late to the extraction site. They wiped me for it.” Bucky smiled weakly at Captain Rogers. It did not reach his eyes.

“Oh, Buck. For not killing a dog you knew would heal?” Steve crouched down next to them.

“I didn’t… I mean, I knew he was smart. I could give him orders like a person. But I didn’t know he would heal.” Bucky shook his head. “I, I couldn’t do it. We had literally killed an entire family, children included, and I couldn’t shoot this dog.” He rubbed Hemingway’s shoulder. “All I knew was that he would do anything for me. He saved my life after an axe blow paralyzed his hindquarters. He kept… I mean it, Stevie. We are keeping Hemingway forever if he wants.”

“Yeah, Buck. We are.” Captain Rogers smiled at Hemingway. “We will take care of him for as long as he wants us to.”  
Hemingway leaned forward and licked Captain Rogers’s cheek as well, protocol be damned. He cared about Bucky, he cared about Hemingway. Hemingway would care back.

“Would like see Caesar and others after run.” Hemingway leaned over to nose the letters around without breaking contact with Bucky.

“You still want to run?” Captain Rogers asked, standing. Hemingway nodded.

“Yeah, I could run, Steve.” Bucky held out a hand, and Captain Rogers pulled him up. Bucky then leaned in and pressed his lips to Captain Rogers’s. Hemingway blinked. That was distinctly human mating behavior. Hemingway’s eyebrows furrowed a bit, looking from one to the other.

“I think maybe we should explain things to Hemingway.” Captain Rogers looked at Bucky.

“Explain? Oh, the kiss.” Bucky laughed. “Uh, Hemingway, do you know what ‘gay’ is?”

“Happy?” Hemingway spelled out.

“Uh, no. I mean, yes, that’s a definition. Steve and I are, we love one another, like, um…”.

“Like mates.” Captain Rogers supplied.

“Captain Rogers is your mate?” Hemingway looked back at them.

“Yes.” Bucky seemed a little relieved, if amused by the term. “Steve is definitely my mate.” Captain Rogers elbowed him.

“You cannot breed. You know that?” Hemingway looked from one to the other. Captain Rogers turned red and buried his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. Bucky bit his lips and looked skyward.

“Yeah, buddy. We know that. We don’t care.” He poked Captain Rogers in the side. “Some help you are.”

“Your dog, you explain it.” Captain Rogers shook with silent laughter.

“Dominance?” Hemingway looked from one to the other.

“Only on Satur…Ooof!” Captain Rogers doubled over slightly when Bucky elbowed him.

“No. It is not a dominance thing.” Bucky glared at Captain Rogers. “It’s because we love each other very much, and it feels good. Between two humans.”

Hemingway looked from one to the other, then in the dog equivalent of a shrug, walked over to the apartment door, and looked back at them.

“Yeah, we can go running. Um, you’re gonna have to wear a collar and a leash and stick with us. There are laws in the city.” Captain Rogers picked up a leash and a collar. Hemingway’s ears went down, and his eyes narrowed. “Uh, I’ll let you do this, Buck.”

“Buddy, come on. If you want to go running, we have to do this or we’ll draw attention. Not that Steve’s ass doesn’t draw attention.” He nudged Captain Rogers with an elbow, taking the leash and collar.

“Yeah, because no one notices your ass.” Captain Rogers rolled his eyes.

Hemingway nodded and consented to let Bucky put the collar on him, and clip the leash to it.

“There. Ok, now remember, we have to at last pretend to be a little normal. Later on, Stark’s got an indoor track on the gym level, we can run as fast as we want up there.” Bucky smiled, the end of the leash in his hand. “Ok, buddy, let’s go for a run.”

Outside the Tower, the city was a riot of smells and sounds. Hemingway quivered at the door of the Tower.

“Yeah it’s a little overwhelming until you get used to it.” Captain Rogers patted his head uncertainly. “It’ll be a little quieter at the park.”

The three of them jogged through the streets to the park. In the park, Hemingway relaxed a bit. He wanted to run around, nose to the ground scenting everything it had to offer. But he had a job, protecting the man, Bucky. And Captain Rogers. He also restrained himself from snarling at every new dog they met. No drawing attention, Bucky said.

After their run, they went back to the Tower, back to the suite. Bucky put another couple pounds of the raw food diet into Hemingway’s bowl. Hemingway ate while the two men ate, then drank his bowl dry, and when no one noticed immediately flipped it with a paw. The metal rang, making both men start, whipping around. Hemingway looked up sheepish and flipped it again, head down, eyebrows up.

“Yeah, ok.” Captain Rogers laughed. “I think we need to get him one of those big self-waterer jugs like Isis was talking about.”

“Yeah…” Bucky still looked shaken. Hemingway slunk over and nudged his hand. “It’s ok, buddy. Just startled me. But everything startles me.”

“He’s a lot better than he was.” Captain Rogers set the full water bowl on the floor, and with an apologetic glance, Hemingway went back to it, drinking it dry a second time. “Six months ago he’d have thrown a knife at you.” He watched Hemingway drink. “Definitely getting you a self-waterer, with a 30 gallon capacity.” Captain Rogers shook his head, and filled it a third time. Hemingway only drank about half of it.

“Buck and I are going to take showers. Then we’ll run you up to see Caesar and the other dogs, ok?” Captain Rogers waited for Hemingway’s response. Hemingway wagged his tail. “Ok. Come on, Buck. Let’s get cleaned up.” He walked over and held out a hand. Bucky took his hand and stood, leaning in to press his lips to Captain Rogers’s again. Captain Rogers smiled, and pressed his face to Bucky’s neck. “Glad you’re feeling better, Buck.”

“I always had your back, but while I was Him, Hemingway always had mine.” Bucky looked over at him and Hemingway wagged what was left of his tail. The two men walked back to the bedroom they shared.

Hemingway walked over to the balcony to let himself out to his patch of grass. It had been cleaned while they were gone. He smelled someone he hadn’t met yet, and repressed the urge to growl. Captain Rogers and Bucky said he was safe here. He shook himself, and used the grass, before going inside.

Hemingway decided on an experiment while his men, not just the man, but his men, were changing. He walked over to the white board and spelled out ‘Friday?’

“Yes, Hemingway?”

Hemingway boofed happily, and nosed at the letters.

“Where are you?”

“I am everywhere. I am the AI running Stark Tower.” The voice came through a speaker in the ceiling, modulated and projected to sound like someone in the same room.

“What is a i?” Hemingway looked toward the speaker. Holman had explained that it was only polite to look at whomever spoke to you.

“Artificial Intelligence. I am a sort of computer program. You understand computers, correct?”

“Yes. Holman told us. Let us move things on his with our noses.”

“I was created in a computer. Effectively, I am in nearly every computer in Stark Tower. It allows me to do things like activate doors, windows, run the climate controls, and monitor everyone for signs of distress.”

‘Signs of distress.’ He knew those.

“Bad dreams?” He looked up.

“Yes. I have protocols for dealing with everyone’s bad dreams. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have their own protocols, I merely monitor for injury. Would you like me to develop protocols for your bad dreams, Hemingway?”

“Maybe. Need to think.”

“When Dr. Banner was in residence, I would gradually raise the lights in his room to daylight levels and play soft music, gradually increasing the volume to listenable levels.”

“Try light thing?” Hemingway shook himself.

“I will do so during your next nightmare.”

“Hey, buddy. What’s up? Everything all right, Friday?” Captain Rogers walked out in slacks and a button down shirt.

“Yes. Hemingway and I were discussing protocols for bad dreams. He has asked me to gradually raise light levels to see if that helps him.”

“I, wow. Ok, yeah. I am never going to get over how smart you are, Hemingway.” Captain Rogers moved toward him hesitantly. Hemingway got up and pushed his head into Captain Rogers’s hand.

“What’s up, Stevie?” Bucky walked out and Hemingway wagged his tail, trotting over to demand pettings. Bucky wore a soft looking pullover of some sort, and denim pants.

“Hemingway and Friday were discussing nightmare protocols for him.” Captain Rogers cleared his throat.

“Ooo, good idea. When I woke him up this morning he bit the arm hard enough for the sensors to flash a warning in my head.” Bucky petted Hemingway, scratching behind his ears.

“And I am floored by the fact that he recognizes the need.” Captain Rogers watched the two of them with a soft expression.

“He’s a smart dog, Steeb.” Bucky smiled and thumped Hemingway’s side. Hemingway wriggled like a pup.

“Really?” Captain Rogers rolled his eyes, but he laughed. “He is a smart dog. Let’s go see the others. Tony’s been texting me all morning about something he wants to show us.”

“Oh, is that what that was? I turned my notifications off because it was driving me crazy.” Bucky stood up straight. “Ok, let’s go see your pals, Hemingway.”

In the elevator Steve looked over at Hemingway.

“I wonder why they quit using this mix of dog. He’s the biggest dog I’ve ever seen.” Steve reached out and petted Hemingway’s head.

“The Caucasian Ovcharko breed was not well known outside of the Caucasuses.” Friday supplied from the speaker. “He drew attention by his size and appearance. At least in the eastern bloc countries, he merely looked like a very large example of a familiar breed. The Ovcharko and Russian Wolfhounds were also chosen for their relatively short lifespans, in order to more readily determine if the serum was working. Once they decided to continue the program with the success of Hemingway, they moved on to breeds that would be more familiar in other parts of the world, like the Mastiff and Rottweiler.”

“You’re one of a kind, buddy.” Bucky rested a hand on his back. Hemingway could not help but notice that he seemed calmer when he touched him, so he pressed against Bucky’s leg. Something that would have earned him a kick or a swat before.

The elevator doors opened, and they walked down the hall toward a set of double doors. Captain Rogers opened the doors and Hemingway bounded into mass chaos. Puppies played and growled, older dogs looked on. Hemingway smelled cigarette smoke. He turned to see Ethel sitting on a sofa with a young male sitting at attention at her feet. Hemingway panted, letting his tongue loll in a smile. He walked up. The young male growled, Hemingway growled louder and the young male stopped, rolling onto his back.

“Still the boss, I see.” Ethel smiled at Hemingway. “Let me guess, Aramis is my assigned bodyguard?”

Hemingway nodded, and looked over at the magnetic board next to them.

“Ethel need security.”

Ethel barked out a laugh.

“Ethel is her own security, but thank you, Hemingway. I appreciate the concern. He’s a very good boy.”

Still lying on his back, the young male wagged his tail, tongue lolling.

Hemingway backed off and the young male scrambled to his feet and shoved his head under one of Ethel’s hands. He looked around for Caesar and found him sitting with his still pregnant mate, watching Rose and Jack’s pups play tug of war with a rope toy. Hemingway walked over. A pup charged him and Hemingway grabbed it by the head, pinning it for a moment, then letting it up. It followed, yipping at his heels, occasionally lunging in to worry one of his legs. Hemingway ignored it, ambling up to Caesar and Snuggles, and sitting on the pup, who squalled in indignation, before wriggling out and bumbling off in another direction.

“You found your man.” Caesar nodded toward Bucky and Steve.

“I did. He and Captain Rogers are mates.” Hemingway sighed. “I will take responsibility for both of them.”

“Are you sure? We have seen the files on Captain Rogers alone.” Caesar leaned over to lick Snuggles’ ear. “Mates?”

“Yes. If I need help I will ask.” Hemingway watched Captain Rogers crouch to rub a puppy’s stomach. It kicked its legs and wriggled. Bucky watched Hemingway. “Mates. They know they can’t breed. I should get back to him.”

“Did he always look so sad?” Caesar looks over at Bucky as well.

“No. For all the time I knew him, he either looked angry or like nothing at all.” Hemingway boofed at Bucky, and let his tongue loll when Bucky smiled at him. He thinks back to that morning’s nightmare. “Once, he looked sad once before. I nearly died.”

Caesar nodded, and nudged Hemingway. Hemingway nudged back, then also licked one of Snuggles’s ears. She snorted, and went back to grooming a pup who’d wandered too close. Hemingway walked back to Bucky, and sat at his feet.

“Done with your briefing?” Bucky rubbed his head with his flesh hand. Almost always the flesh hand. Hemingway nodded. “Once a soldier always a soldier.” Bucky sighed, and Hemingway bumped his legs with a shoulder.

“Mr. Stark is bringing something up here for you to test out.” Friday’s voice spoke moments before the door opened, and Tony walked in with several agents carrying what looked like the largest keyboard Hemingway had ever seen.

“Hey, Tyson’s, Pinocchio, I have something for the dogs to try out.” Tony directed the agents in the set up of the keyboard and a large screen set up against the wall. “If this works, I’ll install one in your suite.”

“What is it?” Captain Rogers stood up, holding the puppy he’d been playing with.

“Oh, if your fangirls could see you now they would all spontaneously combust. Friday, get a picture.” Tony shook his head. “Keyboard for the dogs. Maybe they can type faster than pushing letters around on those white boards.”

Over by one of the whiteboards, Cleopatra, from the generation before Caesar, more slender, than Caesar and his litter mates, barked. On it she had spelled out, “Doubtful.”

Captain Rogers and Bucky laughed.

“Laugh it up, Stouffer’s.” Tony watched the agents and one intern, who kept looking longingly at the puppies, get the keyboard and screen set up. “Ok, who wants to try it.”

Hemingway barked at Cleo. She walked up and looked at the keys, then typed out: “Too far apart to be fast.” She glanced at Hemingway. “Too small for Hemingway.”

Hemingway walked over and attempted to tap a key. His paw hit four keys at once.

“Well, shit.” Tony frowned at the keyboard. “But it’ll work for you guys. Play around with it, see if you like it. If not, I’ll be coming up with something else for Hemingway.”

“Friday, what mix of breeds is…?” Captain Rogers carefully set the puppy down. Others scrabbled at his pantlegs wanting cuddle time.

“Her name is Cleopatra. Doberman and greyhound. Her generation were bred for speed and ferocity. Jack and Selene are the other two survivors of that generation.” As Friday spoke, Cleopatra stood taller. She was by far the most slender of the bunch. Jack and Selene, who was on her back snapping at puppies as they played around her head, were neither as slender nor as fast. Every adult dog in the room had scars.

Captain Rogers and Bucky sat and talked with Ethel, watching the dogs play. Tony stood by the keyboard, very deliberately out of Ethel’s reach, and watched Cleopatra type with it. She was quite fast, but not as fast as nosing letters around were for many of them.

After an hour Ethel stood up.

“I have to get back to work.” She patted Captain Rogers and Bucky on the shoulders. Captain Rogers stood up and pulled her into a hug while she grumbled. As she started for the door, Aramis followed at her heels. “What if I say no?” She glared down at the dog. The dog glared right back. Over by the keyboard Cleopatra barked.

“We chose Aramis for you for a reason.” Cleo’s tongue lolled out of her mouth in laughter. Ethel sighed.

“Friday, tell Isis I need the works for this young monster. Aramis, right? Come on.” Ethel left, Aramis walking regally by her side.

Hemingway nodded. Aramis would do fine by the old bitch.

“Maybe she’ll cut down on her smoking.” Captain Rogers spoke up once she was gone.

“Never happen. And if it does, warn me. I’m divesting all stock in Winston-Salem’s parent company because their profits will nosedive if Ethel quits, or even cuts down.” Tony snorted.

“I think I remember her now. She was a WASP, brunette, had that whiskey and cigarettes voice? Dernier was in love the moment we got on her plane.” Bucky snickered, a hand on Hemingway’s back. “Tough as nails, beat him two out of three in arm wrestling.”

“The same.” Captain Rogers smiled at Bucky. Just then the door opened.

“I heard there were puppies.” That voice. Hemingway’s head whipped around and he snarled, stalking forward toward the redhead standing at the door.

“Bozhe moi! That beast!” She pulled a gun. The rest of the dogs fell in behind Hemingway, the puppies skittering back behind the adults.

“Nat! No!” Captain Rogers stood up, holding out a hand in warning.

“Hemingway, no, it’s ok, buddy!” Bucky stood slowly and walked up behind Hemingway. “It’s ok. Natalia is a friend now.” He rested a hand on Hemingway’s back. Hemingway kept growling, as did the other adult dogs. “Hemingway, no. Stoyat! Ryadom!” Bucky’s hand tightened on his fur, the metal one. Hemingway stopped growling long enough to whine. He wanted to look to Bucky, but not while she was in the room.

“Nat, why don’t you go and wait for us outside?” Captain Rogers put himself between her and the dogs. “We’ll sort this out in a bit. Please, Nat.”

“Natalia, go.” Bucky’s voice dropped to a growl.

“I will be right outside.” She lowered the gun, and backed up to the door, feeling behind her for the doorknob. She slipped out, closing it quietly.

“I’ll go talk Nat down. You see if you can calm down Hemingway enough for introductions.” Captain Rogers looked over at Hemingway and Bucky.

“They’ve been introduced.” Bucky relaxed his grip on Hemingway’s fur. “Come on, Hemingway. Come sit with me.” Bucky tugged, and Hemingway followed him over to the couch as Captain Rogers slipped out the door as well.

“There has got to be one hell of a story there.” Tony watched them from where he still stood next to the keyboards.

“I apologize. Ms. Romanoff makes a game of avoiding detection. Perhaps it is time to upgrade the sensor network, Tony.” Friday sounded chastened. Hemingway made a distressed noise.

“It’s all right, buddy.” Bucky held Hemingway’s face in his hands. “I know she hurt you before, but she didn’t have any more choice than we did, got that?”

Hemingway’s ears went back and his spine stiffened, even as he sat in front of Bucky.

“I mean it, Hemingway. They used you to train her to escape guard dogs. She didn’t want to hurt you. She hated hurting you, even though you scared the hell out of her.” Bucky rubbed Hemingway’s ears. “Would it help if she apologized?”

Hemingway sighed and a lot of the tension left his body. He licked Bucky’s face, then went over to the closest whiteboard.

“I will try.” Hemingway looked over at Bucky. “For you.”

“Try what, Hemingway?” Bucky got up and knelt down next to him.

“Try to forgive.” Hemingway sighed again. “If she does.”

“That’s all I can ask, pal.” Bucky hugged Hemingway with his good arm. “I never would have let her hurt you if I could have stopped it.”

“I know.” Hemingway nosed the letters into order, and licked Bucky’s face.

“Hey, Friday. Can you let Nat and Stevie know that if Nat apologizes, Hemingway will also apologize and try to be friends?”

“I did not say apologize.” Hemingway snorted.

“Come on, buddy. You’re going to have to come partway on this. She still has nightmares about you.” Bucky rubbed behind his ears. “She’s kind of me and Stevie’s best friend, so it would real helpful if she could come over to visit us every once in awhile.”

Hemingway glared at Bucky, who met his gaze. Hemingway looked away first.

“Yes. Fine.”

“Good. Now, where should we do this. Our apartment? Would you feel safe there? Because she is not going to feel safe in here.” He sighed. “I would not be surprised if Zerya had suggested she come up here to try to get over her fear of dogs by meeting the puppies.” Hemingway sighed again, and bumped Bucky with his head.

“Fine. Apartment.”

“Friday?”

“I will ask Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff to meet you in your apartment.” Friday paused. “The hallway is clear. They are going for coffee first.”

“Come on, buddy.” Bucky got to his feet.

“Hemingway, is she a danger to us or the puppies?” Caesar walked forward. Hemingway looked up at Bucky, then back to Caesar.

“I do not think so. If what my man says is true, she was tortured into it like we were. Give her a chance.” Hemingway rumbled in his throat. “She is dangerous. But so are we.”

Hemingway went back to the white board.

“Friday, Natalia is welcome here so long as she behaves.” Hemingway waited for acknowledgement.

“I will let her know, Hemingway.”

“We will be watching her.” Cleo tapped out the words on the giant keyboard and barked once for emphasis.

 

Back in their suite, Bucky sat with Hemingway on the floor next to the white board, brushing Hemingway. Hemingway decided he liked brushing, like more intensive scratching. Bucky brushed until the giant dog lay across his lap. Finally the apartment door opened, and Captain Rogers came in first.

“Nat’s with me, she’s going to come in now if that’s ok.” Captain Rogers stood in front of the door.

Hemingway nodded.

Captain Rogers stepped to the side and Natalia stepped slowly into the room, keeping her hands away from any weapons she might have hidden on her person.

“Hemingway?” Natalia stopped about ten feet from he and Bucky, positioned so she could see the white board. “I am sorry for what happened between us in the Red Room.”

Hemingway levered himself up slowly, and went to nose letters around on the whiteboard.

“I am sorry also. Same people controlled you me Bucky.” He looked over at her, then went back to the whiteboard. “They hurt all of us.” He paused. “Assholes.”

Nat tried to disguise a sob as a laugh.

“Yeah, assholes.” She nodded, eyes glittering. “I thought I killed you.”

“I got better.” Hemingway looked up when the three humans snorted. “What?”

“We’ll explain later.” Bucky rubbed his ears. “Nat, Hemingway saved my life so many times as the soldier. There were missions I could not have completed without him. And I’m pretty sure he got me wiped more times than you did.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Nat kept her tone flat.

“I don’t know. Does it?” Bucky looked up at her.

“A little. Certainly explains why you backhanded me across the room when we thought I’d killed him.” Nat kept her expression flat.

“Guess it does.” Bucky watched her carefully. So did Hemingway.

“I’m not sure if this is better or worse than finding out you loved Rogers more than me.” She smiled, it nearly reached her eyes.

“I’ve never had sex with Hemingway.” Bucky smiled at her.

“I notice your choice of verb.” Now the smile started edging up into her eyes.

“Cold climate missions. He is almost as warm to sleep next to as Steve.” Bucky’s smile grew wider. Hemingway licked his face.

“Now I’m not sure how I feel about this.” Captain Rogers walked over from where he’d been standing next to Nat.

“Can, can I pet you, Hemingway?” Nat bit her lower lip.

Hemingway nodded. With Bucky there touching him, he could do this.

Nat walked over and dropped slowly to her knees in front of him, before reaching out to touch his ruff. Her tiny hand sank into the fur and she smiled.

“So soft.” She reached up to rub his ears. “I cried for weeks after I thought I killed you.” She took a deep breath. “I had to kill another of the girls after she found me crying in the bath. No one much cared. We were all disposable.”

Hemingway leaned forwarded snaked a lick to her cheek. She froze, then giggled. Steve and Bucky looked at each other with lifted eyebrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you like this, or if you found any glaring errors.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More bad dreams, and an aborted kidnap attempt?

Chapter 3  
Fire. Flames, smoke, everywhere CS3-B7 looked. He barked, bayed, looking for the man. Coughing, he stumbled through the wreckage towards where he had last seen him. There, on the ground, unmoving. CS3-B7 staggered over and barked. The man barely even twitched. CS3-B7 grabbed the metal arm in his mouth and started dragging the man in the direction he thought might be safe. It took forever, especially since he had to keep stopping to cough more and more frequently. At one point a burning timber hit across his back and trapped his tail. He cried and the tail gave as the fire burned through. 

He did get the man to safety, though, out of the rubble and in the shelter of a burned out car. He collapsed next to the man, coughing, eyes watering. 

The man did not move for a very long time. 

Periodically, CS3-B7 would nudge his hand or face. 

Finally, he woke when CS3-B7 licked his face, eyes shooting open. CS3-B7 backed away, whining. His back hurt, a lot of his fur had singed off, and he was missing part of his tail. He ached everywhere. 

The man sat up and pulled the mask off, looking up at CS3-B7. 

“Why didn’t you let me die?”

 

Hemingway woke with a start. The living room was nearly at full daylight brightness. 

“Hemingway?” Friday’s voice. He whined, and went to the white board. 

“Thank you.” He glanced up at a clock. 3 am. Friday gradually dimmed the lights back down. Hemingway looked towards the bedroom where the man, Bucky, the man was Bucky, and Captain Rogers slept. He got up and padded over to the door, opening it slowly with his mouth. He crept in and watched the two of them sleep for a moment, wrapped around one another, before sighing and laying down on the floor next to the bed.

 

“Stevie, I thought you shut the… oh, hey, Hemingway.” Bucky peered over the side of the bed at him. “Of course you can open doors. You ok, buddy?” 

Hemingway nodded and stretched with a yawn. 

“Bad dreams again?” Bucky reached over to pet him. 

Hemingway nodded and got to his feet to shake. 

“We both have them a lot, too.” Bucky rubbed Hemingway’s ears. “Sometimes we can’t get back to sleep so we’ll go for runs in the middle of the night.” 

“It’s a lot quieter then.” Steve sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Mornin’ Hemingway. Up for a run?”

Hemingway nodded and stretched, shaking out his fur again. Steve leaned over to kiss Bucky.

“Let’s get dressed and go for that run, and then see if we can find a diner that’ll let us bring Hemingway in with us.” Steve sat up again and slid out of bed on the other side to pad into the bathroom. 

“Friday?” Bucky rolled onto his back. He patted the bed next to him, and Hemingway hopped up onto it, lying down next to Bucky, his head on the man’s stomach. 

“There are five dog-friendly cafes in the Manhattan area.” Friday’s voice chimed from the ceiling. “Two are local chain ‘Barking Dog,’ a third is a coffee house with pastries called the Blue Dog. The Blue Dog is closest to your usual running route."

“We could grab coffee and pastries, then come back here for a real lunch. Almost like normal people.” Bucky rubbed Hemingway’s head.

“I thought we were getting up to run.” Steve walked out and went to pull on underwear and running shorts. 

“Yeah, yeah… I was comfy. Friday found us a couple options for dog-friendly cafes. A real cafe further out, or a coffeeshop close by. I figure we can start with the coffeeshop and get pastries then come back here for real food.” Bucky gently pushed Hemingway’s head off his stomach and sat up. 

Hemingway climbed down off the bed, and stretched again. He slept deep here, like he hadn’t for a long time. It felt good, to be rested. He boofed and wandered out into the living room. He went out to his patch of grass, and watered it, then came inside and drank some of his own water, waiting for Captain Rogers and Bucky to get dressed for running. A few minutes later they came out, to find Hemingway sitting patiently by the door, leash and collar in his mouth. 

“Ok, buddy.” Bucky knelt to put the collar on him and Hemingway licked his face. 

The three of them left the tower to jog through Central Park and make their way to the cafe. Steve walked up to order drinks and pastries, while Bucky staked a sidewalk table with Hemingway at his side, resisting the urge to growl at all the people, too close, too many, and many strange dogs. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Bucky petted his head. 

“I get it, Hemingway. I do. But part of the adjustment to society is getting used to being around people.” Bucky sounded resigned, and Hemingway nosed his hand. “Yeah, it’s hard.” Bucky watched Steve, and Hemingway kept an eye out on the people around them, scenting the air. He could smell one or two scents from the tower, and picked them out, waiting at a discrete distance. Hemingway wondered if they always followed his men. Then another familiar scent drifted in on the wind. He growled. 

“What is it, Hemingway?” Bucky crouched next to him. Hemingway searched the crowds in the direction the scent came from. There, one of the men who would come talk to the scientists about objectives, failure, acceptable losses… He growled louder. 

“Hemingway, keep it together buddy.” Bucky made eye contact with one of the people from the tower, and hid speaking into his ‘watch’ behind hugging Hemingway. One of the people from the Tower nodded and answered his cel phone. Hemingway remained tense. Steve made his way out carrying two coffees and a bag of pastries. 

“Everything ok, Buck?” Steve set the coffees and pastries on the table and crouched with them. 

“Hydra 11 o’clock. Hemingway spotted him.” Bucky kept his voice low. Steve checked his watch, and stood, stretching and flexing slightly. 

While Steve stretched distracting nearly everyone in the vicinity, someone tased the Hydra agent and he went down in a twitching spasming heap, whisked away, while the majority of eyes were on Steve’s physique. He blushed from the attention and sat down quickly. Bucky snickered. 

Hemingway nodded, approving of the distraction and the quick retrieval of the Hydra agent. Steve pulled out a pastry as Bucky eased back into his chair, and broke it into pieces, feeding it to Hemingway, as he’d seen others at the cafe doing. 

“It’s a special dog pastry they make here.” Steve explained as he slipped Hemingway the pieces of pastry. “They said it’s perfectly safe for human consumption, but designed for dogs. He appears to like it.” Hemingway inhaled the pieces as quickly as Steve fed them to him. “Maybe we should pick up a dozen for home.” 

“Might not be a bad idea.” Bucky wore a long-sleeved shirt and gloves, hiding his arm. Hemingway understood. He nudged Steve’s hand for petting once the pastry was gone. 

“Yeah, we should definitely pick some up for home. No telling when we’ll be able to get out this way again.” Steve scratched behind Hemingway’s ears. Hemingway sighed. 

“Why don’t you get those pastries and we’ll head out, Stevie.” Bucky’s eyes couldn’t seem to rest in any one area for any length of time. The Hydra agent had spooked him. Hemingway rested his head on Bucky’s thigh. “You did good, buddy.” 

Steve went to get some more dog pastries, and as they got up to leave, a black SUV with Natalia at the wheel pulled up. 

“You fellas want a ride home?” Natalia’s smile faltered a little when she looked at Hemingway, but they were both working on their gut reactions. 

“Sure, thanks, Nat.” Bucky gathered up Hemingway’s leash. “Steve’ll be right out.” 

A few moments later, Steve was out with a box of pastries. The three of them climbed into the SUV. Nat kept the windows rolled up and Hemingway's ears drooped. 

“What’s up, Nat?” Steve slid into the passenger seat. Bucky sat in back with Hemingway. 

“Your tail picked up a couple more Hydra Agents. We’re not sure who they want more, you, Barnes, or Hemingway.” She put the SUV in gear, and pulled away from the curb. Hemingway cocked his head. 

“There’s a magnet board in the far back so Hemingway can join the conversation.” Nat gave him a wink in the rearview mirror. Bucky pulled it forward. 

“Why me?” Hemingway spelled out. 

“We’re not sure. We do currently have pretty much the entirety of their canine super soldier program in a penthouse suite. You were the first. They may want your blood, your dna….” 

Hemingway shuddered at a memory. 

“You ok, buddy?” Bucky put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Breeding.” Hemingway looked out the window. Smart enough to over-ride his baser instincts, Hemingway hadn’t wanted to mount any of the bitches they brought him when Hydra had him. Hydra had been insistent and cruel. Several litters had been born, and destroyed when the serum did not breed completely true, or resulted in feral, unmanageable offspring who barely listened to Hemingway, forget a human handler. 

“I can’t wait until we wipe every last one of them off the planet.” Bucky’s voice dropped to a growl, and Hemingway looked back at him. 

“Me, too.” Hemingway leaned against Bucky, closing his eyes. Hydra made him tired, very tired. They were beaten, why wouldn’t they lay down. He grumbled a little. Bucky slid an arm around him and squeezed. 

“We got your back, buddy. Hydra are not getting their mitts on my dog again.” He braced his forehead against the side of Hemingway’s head. 

Hemingway licked Bucky’s face. 

 

The Tower was a hive of activity. SHIELD agents were stationed in the parking garage when they got there. Steve, Bucky, Nat and Hemingway got out and took the elevator up to Steve and Bucky’s floor. Hemingway started when Friday spoke.

“Captain Rogers’s, Sgt. Barnes’s and Hemingway’s floor.” 

Hemingway jerked his head up to look at the speaker. 

“You live here, too, buddy.” Bucky rubbed Hemingway’s ears. “This is your home.” 

Hemingway whined and licked Bucky’s hand. 

“Briefing upstairs in ten. Bring Hemingway.” Nat nodded, staying in the elevator. 

“As if we wouldn’t.” Steve snorted. 

Hemingway watched Natalia until the doors closed, and then he sighed. Maybe she should get a dog. Hemingway made a note to speak to Caesar and the others when he got a chance, and walked over to his dish, looking back at his men. 

“Yeah, I get your hint.” Steve laughed and walked over to the refrigerator, opening it to find a large plastic container marked, ‘For Hemingway. I know you get hungry, Steve. But seriously, this is dog food. Jasmine.’ “She thinks she’s funny.” Steve chuckled and pulled the bucket, really, out of the refrigerator. Another note on the top said, ‘Quarter of this bucket twice a day. Will refill in two days. Call if you need more sooner.’ 

“She’s pretty funny, Stevie.” Bucky walked up and patted Hemingway’s head. There was also a box of dog treats on the refrigerator, and of course the dog pastries. 

Hemingway cocked his head, looking at the two of them. Steve looked up and noticed. 

“Oh, uh, after a mission I was really hungry, so I went down to the kitchens, and I kind of ate a spoonful of sourdough starter before she could stop me. I thought it was just really runny mashed potatoes.” Steve blushed. 

Hemingway raced over to his whiteboard.

“Sourdough starter?” He boofed. 

“We’ll explain later, or maybe get you a screen so you can read about it.” Bucky smiled, an arm around Steve’s waist as Steve dished up roughly a quarter of the bucket, which had removable sections quartering it. 

“Good idea, Jazz.” Steve set Hemingway’s dish on the floor and he raced over to it. He stopped, boofed once at the two of them, and then started to eat, pacing himself. While they were out, his water dish had been replaced with a large, filtered, self-watering station. He drank while his men went to shower and change. 

By the time he had gone out to water his patch of grass, his men had emerged and were making sandwiches before they left for the briefing. They inhaled the sandwiches on the short elevator ride up to the briefing room. Although Hemingway suspected Friday had slowed the ride down to give his men time to finish them. 

Caesar and Cleo waited in the briefing room, sitting on a long padded bench with room for Hemingway on it between them. 

“Hydra?” Caesar looked over at Hemingway.

“He smelled familiar and not in a good way.” Hemingway’s ears went back, and Cleo licked his face. 

“We’re safe here.” Caesar took a deep breath. “Tony Stark has seen to that. He came back later to play with the puppies. I think we’ve decided which one will be his.” 

“Speaking of that. I think Cleo should be assigned to Natalia.” Hemingway glanced over where Natalia sat with Steve and Bucky. 

“Are you sure?” Caesar blinked at him. Cleo’s ears went back. 

“Yes. She is truly sorry about what happened. She was just a pup and the people who trained me and commanded my man, my Bucky and I, trained her. They took her when she was a small pup. And Cleo is the only one of us who stands a chance of keeping up with her.” 

Cleo turned to look at Nat, then back at Hemingway. 

“If those are my orders, I will follow them.” She looked over at Nat again. “She does look sad when she sees us, especially you, Hemingway.” 

As they talked, a new man walked in, with sandy blonde hair, wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a purple target on it. 

“Clint!” Nat leapt up and hugged him. 

“Nat!” Clint hugged her tight. “Good to see you. You ok?” He glanced at the dogs. 

“Yes, Hemingway and I have made our peace. He is a very sweet boy.” Nat winked at Hemingway. Hemingway could feel Cleo melt toward her a little when that happened. 

“That must be Hawkeye.” Hemingway nodded. “He needs a dog. According to Steve, he has a family that is hidden. They need protection.” 

“Jack and Rose?” Caesar suggested. “A mated pair, they have puppies, Hawkeye’s family can help look after them. And two dogs will be good if they have the room.”

“We will ask him.” Hemingway nodded to Caesar. 

“So these are the super dogs?” Clint walked over, Nat just slightly behind him. A magnetic board rose from the table, letters on it. 

“Yes. You are Hawkeye.” Hemingway didn’t use a question mark. He didn’t need to. 

“Yeah, yeah, holy shit. You weren’t whistling Dixie, Nat.” Hawkeye’s jaw dropped. 

“We would like you to have two of our pack, for protection.” Hemingway gave him a meaningful look. “If you have room, you could take the pups that have not yet weaned as well.” 

“I don’t know if I have room for two dogs your size.” Hawkeye blinked, watching Hemingway nudge letters. 

“Sure you do.” Nat elbowed him. “And puppies.” 

“Jack and Rose are later generations. Smaller. Like Caesar and Cleo.” They each barked as their names were spelled. 

“We’ll talk later.” Clint stared. Nat led him over to a seat. After a moment, Cleo followed. Once Nat was seated, Cleo walked up and rested her head on Nat’s thigh with a sigh, sitting next to her. 

“I think you’ve got a dog, Natalia.” Bucky chuckled. 

“I, guess, maybe.” Nat looked over at Hemingway, who winked at her. She seemed startled. But she pulled out her phone, Hemingway guessed to text Isis for help setting up for Cleo. 

“If I could have your attention.” The dark haired woman, Maria Hill. Hemingway and Caesar sat up straighter. Cleo licked Nat’s hand and raced back to her seat. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the sudden influx of dogs in the Tower. These dogs are all recipients of the super soldier serum that Hydra has been working on since Cap here.” As she spoke, the magnetic white board lowered enough that the dogs could see her, but enough stayed visible for communication. “Caesar, came home with Cassidy Holman a few months ago. He was only one of more than 20 dogs, living in parks in Washington DC, waiting to see how the whole Hydra/SHIELD thing shook out. I have spoken with Caesar, primarily, and after this meeting I would like to speak with Hemingway if I could. Hemingway was the Winter Soldier’s Mission Assist, he is more than 40 years old, and was from one of the first successful batches of pups. He is Caucasian Ovcharko and Russian Wolfhound. His former designation was CS3-B7. Canine Subject 3-Batch 7. Everyone else is from more recent generations. Cleo is from one of the last that Hydra actively engineered. Caesar and his mate Snuggles,” she waited until the chuckling died down, “are expecting the most recent generation. We are learning a lot from them. Hydra talked pretty freely around them. Scott Holman, Cassidy’s brother, was the only non-Hydra scientist on the job. Seems one of the dogs let slip what was going on. He warned Cassidy, and injected her with the serum as well. It is still not as effective as Cap’s, but it’s better than standard human.”

“Why have we not drafted her?” Someone asked. 

“Because she’s a traumatized young woman who lost most of her family and has a paralyzed sister to support.” Maria looked at the man like he was an idiot. “If she wants to join the fight, she’ll let us know. As many of you know, she is a formidable opponent in hand to hand. She will come to us willingly or not at all, I am not in the business of creating super villains. The same goes for the dogs. They will work with us willingly or not at all. Some of them have already assigned themselves as protection details to certain agents. Hemingway, will of course, stay with Sgt. Barnes and Captain Rogers.” 

“But what about Daphne?” Someone else asked. 

“Daphne is a different story. And your clearance isn’t high enough to hear it.” Maria glared at him until he looked away. When the Agent mentioned Daphne, Hemingway noticed a slight tightening of Bucky’s jaw and he made a note to ask about that when he got a chance. 

“This morning we discovered Hydra tailing Captain Rogers, Sgt. Barnes and Hemingway after their morning run. Rather, Hemingway discovered them, we just picked them up. We did get one knocked out before he could trigger the suicide capsule. We will discover what we can. We are unsure who they were more interested in killing or capturing. But they did have a van nearby and tranquilizers capable of dropping any of the three of them.” 

Steve, Bucky and Hemingway all looked at her with wide, startled eyes. 

“We’re analyzing them in hopes of finding a painkiller that will work on the three of you, for when you get injured.” Maria nodded. “Also, to make sure if Hydra does use them on you, that it isn’t going to actually kill you.” 

Maria spoke for a bit longer, but Hemingway’s head spun. A van, with tranquilizers. He looked over to Steve and Bucky, worried, but not really seeing them. Caesar and Cleo leaned into him. He almost missed it when Steve and Bucky stood, and waited for him to join them. Bucky patted his head, flesh hand tangling in his fur. 

“I know, pal.” Bucky smiled. 

Back in the apartment, Hemingway walked over to his bed and laid down with a heavy sigh. Bucky followed him and sat on the floor next to him, petting his head. 

“You feel like they’re never gonna give up, don’t you, buddy?” Bucky kept his voice soft. Steve went into the kitchen and started rattling around. “Like no matter what we do, how many we kill, they’re always gonna be there.” 

Hemingway turned his head to lick Bucky’s hand. 

“Steve says the challenge is learning how to live in spite of them, to spite them.” He buried his hands in Hemingway’s fur to both sides of his face and turned the giant head to face him. “We can make a new life, no matter what they do. We have each other, and Steve, and everyone in this tower on our side. Ok, Hemingway?”

Hemingway nodded, and licked Bucky’s face. He sputtered and wiped his lips with his sleeve. 

“Director Hill requests permission to enter.” Friday announced, about 20 minutes later. 

“Let her in.” Steve sat on the floor on Hemingway’s other side, a hand sinking into his fur. 

“Hi, guys.” Hill walked in and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them. “So this is the famous Hemingway. There’s photos in some of the files. More than one person thought you were a bear.” 

“Ovcharko hunt bears.” Bucky rubbed behind Hemingway’s ears. 

“I believe it. You probably outweigh me.” Hill leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Caesar tells me they sent you out on missions with the Soldier less than a decade ago.” 

Hemingway nodded, then pushed himself into a sitting position to nose letters around the board. “Uzbekistan. Egypt. Syria. Libya. Greece.” 

“Is that it?” Maria’s eyes widened. Hemingway shook his head. 

“Get me a map I can show you every mission we ever went on.” Hemingway looked at Bucky’s face. His man looked stricken. 

“You can read maps?” Hill frowned. 

“Yes. The Man, Bucky, he couldn’t always. I needed to. I don’t think command knew. We figured it out ourselves. If he listened to me, we got the mission done. No punishment. When he didn’t, punishment.” Hemingway whined and nosed at one of Bucky’s hands. 

“Punishment.” Maria’s face went blank. 

“Mostly for Bucky. They thought I was a dumb animal.” Hemingway leaned closer to Bucky. “When they figured out he valued me, they hurt me to hurt him.” 

“Listening to you cry was the worst sound in the world, buddy.” Bucky wrapped an arm around Hemingway. Hemingway licked his face again. 

“Wait. If you can tell us where your missions were. Could you tell us where the bases they kept you in were?” Hill asked, looking from Bucky to Hemingway and back. “He doesn’t remember, but Caesar said they never wiped you, the dogs.” 

“They did not. Maybe.” Hemingway leaned into Bucky again. 

“I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day, Maria.” Steve leaned in and clasped a hand around Bucky’s wrist. “Tomorrow we can have Hemingway look at maps for you.” 

“Yeah, all right. Tomorrow. I’ll see what Tony can mock up for us.” Hill stood. “Thanks, Hemingway. You’re a champ.” 

“You’re welcome.” Hemingway wagged his tail, then nudged in close to Bucky. 

Once Maria was gone, Bucky wrapped his arms tight around Hemingway. 

“You saved my life so many times, pal.” Bucky’s voice came out muffled by Hemingway’s fur. 

“Buck, you gonna be ok?” Steve hovered. Hemingway nodded and Steve moved in to hug the both of them. 

“Yeah, Stevie. Yeah. Just, this dog.” Bucky pulled back, eyes red and watering. “Let’s, uh, let’s get some dinner and watch TV. Pretend we’re normal people with a normal life.” He laughed, and Hemingway nosed his face. 

“He’s a great dog, Buck.” Steve rubbed Hemingway’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I've done some editing and sorting to get this in the right order. Sorry about that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hemingway shows them where many of his and the man's missions took place. It brings back bad memories.

CS3-B7 and the man crouched in an alley in the dark. Even at night it was too hot and CS3-B7 had to remind himself not to pant so loudly. Earlier the man had him smell a scrap of cloth to get the scent of their mission. He had it, he remembered. As he panted silently at the man’s feet, he caught a whiff of the scent, and his ears went forward. He stopped panting and nudged the man. The man nodded, eyes hard above the mask, and they waited. 

Soon enough the mission walked down the deserted lane accompanied by one other person, someone who smelled vaguely familiar. As they came even with the alley, the mission’s companion shoved him into the mouth of the alley. CS3-B7 leapt forward, mouth around the mission’s throat before he could shout. 

“Bring him.” The man stood up in the alley. CS3-B7 dragged him deeper into the shadows where the man waited. 

When the mission caught sight of the man, he started to panic, making squeaky noises as he fought for air around the grip CS3-B7 had on his throat. Then the soft sound of crunching glass, and an acrid smell filled CS3-B7’s nostrils. He let go, whining, pawing at his nose. The mission made one strangled sound and lay still. The man, the smell moved toward the man. CS3-B7 shook his head, vision fading, and charged the man, trying to push him away, staggering sideways, vomiting, lungs working for oxygen and failing. The man heaved CS3-B7 up over his shoulder, and started to run. 

The shaking woke Hemingway up and he yelped. The man crouched by the dog bed, shaking him with his metal arm. Captain Rogers hovered behind him. The lights were daylight brightness.

“Hemingway, it’s ok! You’re ok! Stop crying, please.” Tears tracked down his man’s face, and Hemingway shook his head to clear it. He licked the man’s face, Bucky’s, face and whined. “Fuck, you just… it sounded like…” He hugged the giant dog tight. Hemingway bore it, then wriggled free. 

“Poison gas. Libya.” 

“Yeah. I remember… arms dealer double-crossed HYDRA. You had him by the throat, and all of a sudden you started crying and yelping, and pawing at your face. You staggered at me, throwing up. I grabbed you and ran. The mission was already dead, and you… I thought I lost you.” 

“Woke up in Jordan, in the river. You washed me. Tried to make me drink.” Hemingway leaned in close. “Coughed up blood for days.” 

By this time Steve had crouched behind Bucky, listening, watching. 

“Hemingway, I am so sorry you had to go through any of that.” Steve bit his lip, a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Me, too.” Hemingway sighed and relaxed against Bucky. 

“You wanna sleep with us, pal?” Bucky gave him another squeeze.

“Buck, he’s gonna take up half the bed.” Steve frowned. 

“Sleeping with you helps my nightmares.” Bucky frowned back.

“We can give it a try. Come on, Hemingway.” Steve stood up and offered Bucky a hand. “Never could say no to you.” 

“Good.” Bucky let Steve pull him to his feet and into a hug. Hemingway followed the two of them into the bedroom, and waited until they’d settled themselves. Once they were situated, Hemingway hopped up and circled on the end of the bed, until flopping down and curling up against Bucky’s legs. He sighed and closed his eyes. 

 

Hemingway woke in the morning with Bucky nudging him with his foot. He lifted his head and blinked slowly at Bucky and Steve. 

“Morning, Hemingway. Ready for a run?” Steve sat up and stretched, yawning. “Sadly, we’re stuck on the track upstairs, but that does mean we can race without anyone noticing.” 

Hemingway yawned, and slid off the bed to his feet. He stretched his legs out behind him before padding out to the living room balcony door. He opened it, and went to his patch of grass, then came back in to to drink some water. He shook himself, waiting for Bucky and Steve in the living room. 

They took the elevator up to the indoor track, and started out at a slow jog. Then Bucky started running a little faster, then Steve, until the two of them sprinted around the track. Hemingway kept up with them, until he figured out it was a race, then rapidly outpaced them, racing full out along the track. 

The second time he lapped them, someone started laughing over by the treadmills. Hemingway slowed down to look, and saw Falcon standing by a treadmill. 

“Cap! I’m getting this dog a collar that says, ‘On your left.’” 

“Hey, if you need to live vicariously through the dog.” Steve chuckled, coming to a halt with Bucky. 

Hemingway cocked his head to the side and looked between Steve and Falcon. 

“Sam, this is Hemingway. Hemingway, this is Sam. I met him by running circles around him in DC.” Steve laughed, wiping his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. 

“And always with the damn, ‘On your left.’” Sam laughed. “Nice to meet you, Hemingway.” 

“Sam also counsels soldiers with PTSD at the VA. In case you need to talk.” Bucky nodded, breathing a little hard. 

“If he needs… Right the magnet boards. Got it. Natasha told me.” Sam smiled at Hemingway. “Yeah, sure, Hemingway. If you need to talk, I’m sure we can figure it out.” 

After their run, Hemingway, Bucky and Steve went back to their apartment for breakfast. After they ate, they sprawled in the living room, Bucky and Steve on the couch, Hemingway at their feet. After several minutes of flipping channels, Hemingway got up and went to his magnet board. 

“Who is Dafne?” He barked. Bucky looked over and his jaw tightened. 

“You weren’t the only one Hydra was trying to breed, pal.” Bucky took a deep breath. “She’s my daughter. Her mother was a party girl in Hong Kong, and when she got pregnant, her family sent her to the US. We found Daphne when she did a commercial genetics test last year.” 

“She is here?” Hemingway cocked his head to the side. 

“Yeah. We kind of keep our distance. Um, she’s not used to having a dad, and what I did to her mom…” 

“What Hydra made you do, Buck.” Steve squeezed his hand. 

“It wasn’t consensual. Daphne’s a little conflicted about me.” He laughed sadly. “I mean, at least now she knows where she gets the height and the eyes.” 

Hemingway walked over and rested his chin on Bucky’s thigh, looking up at him with large brown eyes. 

“It’s ok, buddy. Ain’t no one to blame but a bunch of dead nazis.” Bucky rested his hand on Hemingway’s head. Steve found a musical, and Hemingway crawled up on the couch to sprawl across their laps and watch the TV with them. 

Halfway through their third musical, Friday interrupted. 

“Gentlemen, Director Hill requests your presence in the conference room. She and Mr. Stark have a method for Hemingway to show them the location of the Hydra bases.” 

Hemingway slid off the couch and stretched, shaking. He looked over at Steve and Bucky. Bucky started to get to his feet, and Hemingway butted his head into his midsection, pushing him back down. 

“I don’t think he wants you to go with him, Buck.” Steve raised his eyebrows. Hemingway walked over to the whiteboard. 

“Bad memories. Stay.” 

“Listen up, you walking rug. I am not going to let you do this alone.” Bucky glared at the dog. 

“I will make them bring Caesar and Snuggles.” Hemingway wagged his tail at Bucky. “You do not need this.” 

“He’s right, Buck.” Steve put a hand over one of Bucky’s. “Let him do this.” 

“Fine. Right. Ok. Friday, you take good care of my dog.” Bucky glared at the speaker. 

Hemingway bounced over and braced his paws on Bucky’s shoulders to lick his face, then walked to the door. 

Once outside the door, his tail quit wagging and he sighed. 

“You do not have to do this, Hemingway.” Friday’s voice. 

Hemingway shook his head, and went to the elevator. 

The elevator let him off on the floor with the conference room. He could hear Tony Stark and Director Hill muttering as he padded up. He nosed the door open, and stuck his head in. 

Large screens covered the walls of the room, and Tony Stark was busy fiddling with a small keyboard. 

“Hey, man of the hour! Where’s your keepers?” 

Hemingway walked over to a white board. 

“Upsetting for Bucky. Told him to stay.” 

Tony Stark snorted, and went back to what he was doing. 

“All right. Hill said you gave us a list of countries.” Tony pointed to various screens. “Egypt. Greece. Libya. Syria. Uzbekistan.” Each of the screens had a map of one of the countries. 

As Hemingway walked over to investigate the maps, the whiteboard rolled to follow him, and he jumped. 

“Whoa. Sorry, Hemingway. That’s Bite-size. He’s a robot. We figured it would be easier if you didn’t have to keep running back and forth.” 

Hemingway crept over to peer around the board at the small robot holding it. It beeped at him. 

Hemingway shook his head and went back to the maps. 

“Andijan, Uzbekistan. Head of a chemical company crossed Hydra.” Hemingway moved to the next map. “Al-Qisa, Syria. Arms merchant. Poison gas hurt me. The man got me out.” He stopped in front of Libya. In front of each map, another city or town, another target. Granted, many of those they had killed deserved it, courted it by dealing with Hydra in the first place. Many of them, but not all. After an hour of pointing at maps and nosing letters around on the white board held by the tiny robot, Hemingway headed to the door and stared pointedly at it. 

“Right. You’ve done a good job, Hemingway. Maybe later we can talk about Hydra bases.” Director Hill walked over to open the door for him. “You did really good, Hemingway. Thank you.” 

Hemingway nodded and walked into the elevator. Inside, alone, he sagged. At their floor, he walked slowly to their door, and when Friday let him in, crawled up on the couch onto Bucky’s lap with a long sigh. 

“Hard work, buddy?” Bucky rubbed his ears. 

“Maria gave us a heads up that you’d be on your way. Dinner’s almost ready. Are you hungry?” Steve stood in the kitchen area, wearing an apron and holding a spoon. 

Hemingway shook his head, and slumped back down on Bucky with another long, deep sigh. 

“Brought it all back, didn’t it?” Bucky rubbed his ears, and let the metal hand rest on his back. “Trust me, I get it. But you need to eat, Hemingway. You have a metabolism like ours. If you don’t eat you’ll make yourself sick.” 

Hemingway sighed again, and slid off Bucky’s lap to the floor where he crawled across the floor to his food dish, and lay there next to it. 

“I know it’s upsetting, buddy.” Bucky walked over and sat on the floor next to him. “Trust me. I know more than anyone else alive.”

Hemingway rolled his head to the side and looked at Bucky with one eye. 

“You know that I do.” Bucky frowned at him. “And you do need to eat.” 

“Here you go, pal.” Steve set a plate on the floor next to his head. It didn’t smell like the food Jasmine had brought up. “I hope you like people food. We got you a steak too. I chunked it up for you. And Isis said it would be ok to give you a little pasta and some mixed veggies. Just spit out what you don’t like.” 

Hemingway lifted his head to look at Steve. 

“I know what Buck’s like after he remembers things, I figured maybe it would be the same for you. So, I made a fancy dinner for the three of us.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “You deserve a reward.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, guys. I've been a little busy, but I will be updating this. Have a Happy New Year!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes, Tony makes a breakthrough, and Hydra's still lurking in the shadows.

<<Do it!>> The small, red-haired girl, young woman really, scarcely more than a pup, looked at CS3-B7 with wide eyes, lower lip trembling just slightly. <<Attack!>>The man spoke a word, and the massive dog lunged at her snarling. She flinched, and before she could fire he was on her. He grabbed an arm and shook her like a rag doll.

 

<<Off! Come!>>. CS3-B7 released the girl and returned to the man’s side. <<Again.>>

 

The girl nodded, and collected herself, stood. Blood ran down her arm redder than her hair.

 

<<Attack!>> This time she didn’t scream or fall back.  She leveled the gun and shot the dog in the face. Blood and teeth pattered to the floor. The dog’s momentum carried him into her, knocking her down. She shoved the twitching body off of her, crying. The man strode across the floor as CS3-B7’s vision greyed out.

 

Hemingway woke up on the bed with the man, Bucky, and Steve. This time Steve woke, sitting up to pet Hemingway’s flank.

 

“You ok, Hemingway?” Steve leaned forward, keeping his voice low. Hemingway sighed, and nodded. He slipped off the bed and stretched before going out to drink and water his patch of grass. Behind him he heard a sleepy voice.

 

“Stevie?”

 

“Hemingway had a nightmare, he’s ok, Buck.”

 

Hemingway came back in, shook himself and crawled up on the bed.

 

“Come’ere, buddy.” Bucky held out his flesh arm. Hemingway crawled up between him and Steve. Bucky hugged him tight. “You ok?” Hemingway nodded and licked his face. “Bleah…” Bucky made a face and Steve laughed.

 

“You gonna be able to sleep, pal?” Steve looked down at Hemingway.

 

Hemingway nodded, and started to scoot back down the bed. Bucky’s arm tightened around him. Hemingway whined.

 

“He’ll be ok. Let him sleep where he wants to, Buck.” Steve rubbed Hemingway’s ears. “Besides, you can’t spoon me if he’s there.”

 

“Jealous, Rogers?” Bucky smiled at him around Hemingway’s face.

 

“Maybe a little. For all I know, you’ve slept with Hemingway more than me.” Steve laughed, still sitting up, knees drawn up to his chest.

 

“I’m the last person who could answer that question. I dunno, Stevie, we had a good few years in Brooklyn before we went to war.” He reached out and pinched Steve hard.

 

“Ow! What was that for?” Steve rubbed his side.

 

“For letting some mad scientist shoot you with up a buncha chemicals, and coming over to get your dumb ass killed.” He glared at Steve. “I’m still mad at you for that.”

 

“If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be able to be together now, when it’s legal. And we wouldn’t have Hemingway.” Steve rubbed Hemingway’s ears again. “He’s a great dog, Buck.”

 

“Come on, you two, let’s get some sleep.” Bucky yawned, refusing to give up his hold on Hemingway. Steve laid back down and threw an arm over Hemingway, too.

 

“Good night, jerk.” Steve smiled. “Good night, Hemingway.”

 

“Good night, punk. Good night, Hemingway.” Bucky closed his eyes. <<Good dog.>> Hemingway laid his head down on the pillow between them, and drifted off.

 

Hemingway woke up in the morning, when Steve slipped out of bed. He blinked, and crept out from under Bucky’s arm, to go out into the living room, stretching as he walked, legs out stiff behind him. He shook himself and went out on the balcony. By the time he walked back to the magnet board, Steve, in running shorts and a t-shirt, was making coffee.

 

“You all right, Hemingway?” “Yes.” Hemingway stood by the board. “Want to talk about it?” Steve walked over as the coffee brewed.

 

“Natalia. She shot me.” He took a deep breath. “I bit her first. Hated the Red Room.”

 

“It doesn’t sound like it was any fun for anyone in it.” Steve crouched down to rub Hemingway’s ears. “Thank you for taking care of Buck all those years.”

 

“He was my,” Hemingway pauses, concentrating on the board. “Mine. And I was his dog.” He looked up at Steve, brows knit.

 

“I get it.” Steve nodded. “He’s always been mine, too. And I’m his. I get it, buddy.” Steve smiled. “How about pancakes and sausages? I’m getting pretty good at cooking a few things now. Not that Buck’ll ever admit it.”

 

“Still want regular breakfast.” He looked over at Steve.

 

“Yeah, why don’t you eat that while I’m cooking. And I’ll give you a pancake and sausage in addition. According to the files, you’re still underweight.” Steve got the raw food out of the fridge and dished it up. Hemingway dove in, tail wagging.

 

Bucky emerged once the smell of cooking sausage wafted into the bedroom, dressed in a pair of pajama pants, and a t-shirt. He yawned, staggering out of the bedroom.

 

“Stevie, Hemingway.” He yawned again. “We gonna run?”

 

“Later.” Steve slid a couple of pancakes onto a plate and set it at Bucky’s place at the table. He also poured him a mug of coffee. “Sleep ok?”

 

“Yeah.” Bucky took a drink of his coffee. “Mmmm, coffee.”

 

They settled into a routine after that. Get up, run and breakfast, not necessarily in that order. Hemingway would go to the conference room and point out the sites of bases and missions. Invariably Bucky would try to accompany him, only to be pushed down by a Hemingway headbutt or yanked back by Steve grabbing his arm.

 

“He’s protecting you, Buck.” Steve held onto the metal arm, tight. “Let him.”

 

Sometimes Natalia and Cleo would join them for their jog on the track. Cleo and Hemingway would race. Cleo was more slender, sleek, but Hemingway’s reach was longer. It was usually a close race, and ended with the two dogs panting, tongues lolling. Hawkeye let them ship Jack and Rose and the pups to his family. He’d let Hemingway talk to them over a Skype call home.

 

“Jack grabbed Nathan by the diaper and pulled him away from the stove for me the other day. They really are good dogs, honey.”

 

After a few months, Hemingway weighed in at a respectable 180 lbs and his fur had gotten glossier and softer. Bucky also gained some weight, and started to lose the circles under his eyes. The two of them walked around the Tower together, visiting others. Jesus’s little dog lunged at Hemingway, and the bigger dog pinned it with a paw, looking around like, “Really?”

 

“It’s ok, Hemingway. He thinks he’s a big tough dog like you, and he needs to protect me.” Jesus laughed, scooping the smaller dog up. Hemingway licked the tiny dog in Jesus’s arms, which set off another storm of indignant barking. Hemingway let his tongue loll.

 

Most nights he slept on the bed with Steve and Bucky, waiting until they’d quieted down before letting himself in. Frequently, they’d call him in once they were done ‘mating.’ Hemingway sighed. He remembered handlers using the man, Bucky, for the sorts of things he figured he and Steve got up to. But Bucky seemed to be pleased with the activity now. Or more to the point, the activity with Steve. No accounting for taste.

 

Three months in, Maria Hill called another all hands meeting. Hemingway, Cleo and Caesar attended to represent the dogs. They sat on their bench, waiting, attentive.

 

“Thanks to Hemingway, we have the locations of dozens of Hydra bases.” Maria nodded toward the dogs. Hemingway nodded back. “Several of them are still being used. We’ve been monitoring traffic in and out, signals, radio frequencies. Lots of coded messages. We’ve been working on deciphering them. We’ve identified three big bases that we want to hit. They don’t appear to communicate regularly. So if we hit each one fast and hard, we should be able to surprise at least the first two if not all three. That does mean, no one escapes.” She looked at the dogs. “If the dogs are amenable, we would like them to scout, and stay on the perimeter to pick off any attempted escapes. You’ll have radios. Tony thinks he’s figured something out.”

 

Hemingway cocked his head to the side, and howled quietly.

 

“I think that means Hemingway doesn’t think they need radios.” Steve chuckled.

 

“We do, though.” Maria scowled at Hemingway. “They’ll let us know where you are, and you’ll be able to hear us.” She raised an eyebrow. “The radios are for the benefit of the people. Hemingway will lead the way in with Captain Rogers and Sgt. Barnes.“

 

“You’re gonna let me go?” Bucky looked startled.

 

“Yes. You and Hemingway reportedly work well together in sparring practice.” Maria gave him a look. “If I may be permitted to continue.”

 

Hemingway scarcely heard a word. He kept looking over at Bucky, his Bucky. His and Steve’s. Steve was his now, too. He whimpered quietly, and Cleo licked his face.

 

Back in their apartment, Bucky took Hemingway’s face in his hands. “You don’t have to do this, buddy. We’ll find another way.” Bucky bumped his forehead to Hemingway’s. Hemingway licked his face and pulled away from Bucky to trot over to the magnet board.

 

“I do. NOT going without me.” Hemingway barked for emphasis.

 

“Yeah, all right.” Bucky sighed sinking to the floor next to him.

 

“Tony is on his way down.” Friday announced. A few moments later the door opened and Tony walked in carrying a couple of small boxes.

 

“Hey, Steinbeck, Tyson’s and Robocop. I brought something for you to try out.” He tossed the boxes at Steve and Bucky. “Friday reported some subsonic sounds when the dogs were together, and after listening for awhile, she figured out that was how they communicated, that and the occasional whine or whimper. So, we think we have a rudimentary vocabulary worked up. Try those on.”

 

“What, you mean we’d be able to hear and understand them?” Steve looked up at Tony.

 

“Yeah, we’ve assigned them voices, let us know if you hate them. We’ll look into some others.” Tony watched Steve and Bucky switch them on and put them in their ears. “Ok, Kerouac, say something like you would to Caesar or something.”

 

Hemingway looked up at them, and Steve and Bucky very clearly heard him say, “Bucky? Steve? You understand?” The voice Friday had chosen for Hemingway was as deep as Steve’s own, with a very slight Russian accent.

 

“Hemingway, did, did you just say our names?” Bucky stared wide-eyed at the dog, who nodded, then bounced on his front feet.

 

“Bucky! Bucky! Steve!” Hemingway raced forward and jumped up to lick first Bucky’s face, then Steve’s, then Stark’s.

 

“What? No! Ack!” Tony sputtered. Steve and Bucky laughed.

 

“Thank you!” Hemingway bounced over to Bucky again. “Bucky! Steve!”

 

 

 

“What does my voice sound like?” Hemingway sprawled across Steve and Bucky, the three of them having obliterated six giant meat lover’s pizzas from a local pizza place.

 

“Almost as deep as Steve’s, with a slight Russian accent.” Bucky rubbed Hemingway’s ears. They sat there watching figure skating, it was on and all three of them felt too lazy to change it, or ask Friday to change it.

 

“I don’t think you should go.” Hemingway spoke haltingly. Bucky’s hand froze.

 

“Why?” He glared at the dog.

 

“They have words that make you comply.” Hemingway craned his neck to look at Bucky. “I obey you. They turn you, then we both fight for them.”

 

“Hemingway, buddy. I’m not letting Steve go without me, and I’m sure as shit not letting you and Steve go without me.” He glared at the dog.

 

“What if I stay, too?” Hemingway sighed.

 

“They need you to lead the way.” Bucky bent over to lower his forehead to Hemingway’s. “It’ll be ok. There’s only a handful of people in all of Hydra who knew those words. They sent me after their own occasionally, remember?” Hemingway nodded and licked Bucky’s face.

 

“They’re working up some bullet proof gear for you, too, buddy.” Steve’s hand on his back. “We know you heal, like me and Buck, but getting shot hurts.”

 

“Thank you.” Hemingway looked over to Steve, and then licked Bucky’s face again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hemingway's nightmares trigger a panic attack. The dogs get ballistic vests. Hemingway reassures Caesar, and he and Bucky have a talk about girls.

The targets lay dead, all of them.  The man slumped against a boulder, sprawled bonelessly, a trickle of blood running down his neck.  That wasn’t good.  Hemingway crept up and nosed one of the man’s hands.  No response.  He whined, and sat back to wait.  After a few moments, he noticed the handle sticking out of the man’s chest.  The man would heal like he did, but that had to come out.  He’d had blades drawn out after his skin had adhered to them.  It hurt.

Hemingway carefully braced a paw on the man’s chest, and took the handle between his front teeth.  Taking a deep breath, he pulled.  The blade pulled free with a sucking sound and the man gasped, eyes opening wide.  

“Steve!” 

Hemingway dropped the knife and sat back, out of kicking distance, and waited.  The man’s eyes focused on Hemingway in the growing dawn, and he blinked, dragging the mask from his face.

“Hey, buddy.  You’re a good dog.”  He shook his head.  “I need to find Stevie. Can you help me do that, pal?”

He started to get up and his hair fell forward into his face. 

“Geez, how long’s it been?” He shook his head again.  “I can’t, look we gotta find Stevie, ok, buddy. Help me find him!” 

Hemingway whined, standing and shifting his weight from paw to paw.  

“Gotta, gotta find Stevie, pal.”  The man staggered, and fell to a knee.  “Show me, show me where…”. 

 

 

Hemingway woke himself up crying.  Both Bucky and Steve sat up, hands on his flanks.  Bucky had tears on his face again.  

“Hemingway!”  Bucky breathed hard, gasping for air as badly as Hemingway.  

“Are you ok, Hemingway?”  Steve tapped his ear.  “We put them in when we heard you crying.”  

“Why did you keep asking who Stevie was?” Bucky’s flesh fingers tangled in his fur.  

“The Himalayas.”  Hemingway whined deep in his throat.  “You wanted me to take you to him.  I didn’t know who he was, but you didn’t understand, and you fell.”  Hemingway howled, once.  “I dragged you to the extraction point.  They wiped you again. I heard you asking for Stevie when they sedated you for transport.”  Hemingway slunk off the bed, tail between his legs.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  He kept his head down. 

“Hemingway, no! Buddy, no.  I’m not, I’m not mad at you.  It’s ok.  Come back up here, please.”  Bucky bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.  “You didn’t know.  You didn’t know that we were the bad guys any more than I did.” Bucky followed him off the bed, and pulled the giant dog into his arms.  Hemingway shivered, and peed himself.  

“I did it.  I took you back!”  He whined higher. 

“It’s ok, buddy.  It’s ok.”  Bucky held him tight, hugging him, crying into Hemingway’s ruff.  “We’re safe now, and that’s all that matters.”  

“No! No, I can’t take you back again.  We can’t, we can’t…” Hemingway quit struggling, and twisted around to lick Bucky’s face, whining.  

“Hemingway, calm down.”  Steve stood and got a towel to mop up around them, and then sat on the floor with them.  “Hemingway, you won’t be alone this time.”  Steve stroked his head.  “I’m here, and the others.  The other dogs, the other Avengers.  You have a team.  It’s not just you and Buck, ok?”  

“I’m sorry.”  Hemingway lowered his head.  

“None of that.”  Steve lifted his chin with his hand.  “I let Isis lecture me on dog body language. You did the best you could with the information you had. It’s ok, Hemingway.  We love you, and we could never hate you for that.” 

Hemingway let his tongue snake out and lick Steve’s cheek.  

“Good to see your Captain America voice works on him, too.”  Bucky laughed, but it sounded more like a sob, and Hemingway turned to lick his face again.  

“I don’t know about you two, but I’m not sleeping any time soon.”  Steve huffed a laugh.  “And you two need baths.”  

“Sorry.”  Hemingway lowered his head. 

“It was instinct buddy, we’re not mad.  Stevie can clean that up while we take a bath, ok?” Bucky hugged the dog tight.  

“Sirs, Miss Romanoff and Cleopatra are requesting to come in.  It seems Cleopatra heard Hemingway’s howl.” Friday spoke softly.  

“I’ll go let them in, you two get in the tub.”  Steve started to lever himself up, then paused to hug Hemingway and Bucky.  “We love you, Hemingway.  You’re part of our family now.”  He let go, and pulled on a robe, before going to answer the door.  

Bucky squeezed Hemingway one more time, then let go of him.  

“Come on, buddy.  We need a bath.”  Bucky took a deep, shuddering breath.  “You ok?”

“No.”  Hemingway took his own deep breath.  “I will be.”  

“Yeah, me too.”  Bucky had just gained his feet when Cleopatra zipped into the room and straight for Hemingway, growling at Bucky.  

“It’s fine, Cleo.”  Hemingway bumped her with his head.  She licked his face.  

“You howled.  I have never heard you howl like that. Not even when the asshole white coats hurt us.” Cleo licked his face again.  

“Bad dreams, bad memories.”  Hemingway licked her face back.  “I am fine. Go wait with Natalia.  Bucky and I need a bath.”  

Cleo snorted at the word bath, but turned to go back out to the living room.  

“Come on, buddy.  Bath time.”  Bucky held out his hand, and Hemingway nudged it, letting Bucky keep a hand on his head on the way into the bathroom.  

By the time Bucky and Hemingway emerged toweled off after their baths, Steve and Natasha had made pancakes, bacon and sausage.  

“Figured we may as well eat, since I doubt any of us are getting any more sleep, at least not for awhile.”  Steve smiled at Bucky and Hemingway.  “Come on, you two.  Before it gets cold.”  

Bucky sat, and Hemingway sat next to him, loathe to leave his side.  

Steve set plates on the table for Natasha and Bucky, and then set plates down for Hemingway and Cleo.  

“Thank you.”  Hemingway ate slowly.  Cleo ate next to him, and nudged one of her sausages over to him, nuzzling his face.  

“That must have been a hell of a nightmare.” Natasha shook her head, watching the dogs.  

“Yeah, it was. We’d, uh, rather not talk about it.”  Bucky looked up at her.  “So, if we could come up with any other topic of conversation, I’d appreciate it.”  

“I could have stopped it.”  Hemingway sighed.  “But I didn’t know…” 

“Hemingway, stop.”  Natasha left her chair to come kneel next to him, shouldering Cleo out of the way.  “You did not know what you did not know.  You are not responsible.  You did what you had to to save his life, yes?”

Hemingway nodded.  

“Then you are a good dog.”  She rubbed his ears.  “Trust me, I think all of us have had those moments after we came back to ourselves, or realized that we weren’t working for the people we thought we were working for.”  She shudders a little.  “Everyone here, even Steve, has had to come to grips with that.”

“Thank you, Natalia.”  Hemingway licked her face.  

“You’re a good boy, Hemingway.  And you kept him alive so that he and Steve could find each other again.”  She smiled at him.  “Remember that.”  

After pancakes were eaten, Natalia and Cleo returned to their suite.  Hemingway, Steve and Bucky crawled back into bed.  

“Come on, up here between us, buddy.”  Bucky patted one of the pillows.  Hemingway sighed, and belly-crawled up between the two men.  

“Can we get a bigger bed?” Steve asked.  “Friday, are there bigger beds?”

“Not commonly, but we could have a bigger bed custom-ordered. Shall I look into cost?” Friday responded.  “Is all well?”

“As well as it is likely to be when all three of us have raging PTSD.” Bucky wrapped an arm around Hemingway, as did Steve.  

 

The next morning, they got up late, all three of them yawning and stretching.  Bucky made eggs, bacon and toast.  Then they watched TV until it was time to take Hemingway for his ballistic vest fitting.  Caesar, Cleo and Natasha were already there.  Cleo raced over and licked his face.  Caesar, who had his vest on, wagged his tail, hitting the person checking the fit of his armor in the legs with it.  

“This is easily the weirdest job I’ve ever had.”  The man who checked the fit of Caesar’s vest laughed.  “Ok, a couple minor alterations, but you’re good.  You and Cleopatra.”  He looked over at Hemingway.  “You were the real challenge.  I could find dog clothes patterns in their sizes.  For you, I had to look into barding for small horses.”  

Hemingway snorted, and walked over where Caesar had been.  The man draped the vest over him and started fastening straps.  As soon as he’d been buckled into it, Hemingway dropped to his belly and crawled around the room a little, moving in a low crouch.  

“Pinches, left shoulder.”  He looked up at the man.  

“He doesn’t have a device, Hemingway.”  Steve smiled.  “He says it pinches his left shoulder.”  

“We should put them on and run around the track.”  Hemingway looked over at Cleo and Caesar, then back at the fitter.  

“He wants all three of them to run around the track with them on.”  Steve repeated.  “It’s not a bad idea.  They could need to run for it.”  

“You’re right.  Ok.  Everybody, let’s outfit the dogs, and head up to the track.”  Natasha held out a hand for Cleo’s vest.  “I should probably learn how to put it on her.  James, you and Steve put Caesar’s on him.”  

Hemingway nodded.  Natasha winked at him.  

Soon, all three dogs wore their vests, and went to the elevator.  Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Clark, the man fitting them with their vests, followed.  

On the track they all belly crawled, slunk, walked, trotted, loped and ran full out.  Halfway through the lap they ran full out, one of Cleo’s straps came loose and she tripped, rolling down the track several feet with a yelp.  Hemingway and Caesar looped back, and Natasha ran over to them.  

“Cleo!  Are you ok?”  Natasha pulled the vest off of her, and hovered not sure what to do.  

“Can you stand, Cleo?” Hemingway nudged her with his nose.  

“Ribs?” Caesar stood next to Hemingway. 

“Fine. My left front leg.  It doesn’t feel broken.”  She got to her feet and yiped when she tried to put weight on her front leg. 

“I didn’t do it wrong, did I?” Natasha looked up at Bucky, Steve and Clark who had caught up.  

“No. I did not account for how they move when they run.  I'll change the straps to something that won't slide free so easily.  Maybe actual buckles. “  Clark looked thoughtful, and a touch worried.

“Natalia, I will be fine in a day or two.” Cleo licked Natasha’s face.  “I need rest.”  

“And extra food.”  Hemingway said. Caesar nodded.  

“I’m sorry.”  Clark took the vests back.  

“You didn’t know. You’ve never worked with animals before.”  Steve clapped him on the shoulder.  “It’s ok. Cleo will be healed in a day or two, and I’d rather it happen here than in the field.”  

Hemingway barked his agreement.  Clark hurried out with his arms full of vests.  Steve stepped in and scooped Cleo up in his arms to carry her to Natasha’s suite.  Hemingway and Caesar hung back.  

“What is wrong?” Hemingway nudged Caesar once the others were a distance away. 

“I should have thought of that.”  Caesar sighed.  “To have us run in the vests and see how they did.”  

“Caesar, you are still young. And you have never worn gear before.”  Hemingway bumped him with his nose.  “I have, that is why I knew.”  

“Every time I think I am ready to lead, something like this happens.” Caesar whined, and licked Hemingway’s face.  

“We all makes mistakes.”  Hemingway exhaled with a shudder.  “Some worse than others.”  He looked over to where Bucky waited by the elevator, Steve and Natasha having taken Cleo down already.  “If I had known, I might have saved him a lot of pain at Hydra’s hands.  But I didn’t.  And here we are.”  

“He does not seem to hold it against you.”  Caesar looked over at Bucky.  

“No. And neither does Cleo hold it against you.”  Hemingway bumped him again.  “Now you know.”  

“Yes.  You are a good leader, Hemingway.”  Caesar wagged his tail.  

“Mostly, I am much older.”  Hemingway nodded, and they walked to the elevator together.  

 

They let Caesar off on the coffeeshop level, so he could join Cassidy.  Then went up to their own.  

“That looked like a pretty intense conversation back there.”  Bucky patted Hemingway’s head after they’d entered their suite.  

“Caesar was upset that he hadn’t thought to have us move around in our armor like that.” Hemingway stretched.  “He worries he will not be a good leader.  He is young. He will learn.  I am very old.”  

“Yeah, you and me both.”  Bucky flopped onto the couch.  Hemingway climbed up and rested his head on Bucky’s thigh. “It’s hard, being the only one left, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes.  I like the other dogs. Most of my littermates died fairly early on in their careers.  They never learned to work with their partners.”  Hemingway sighed.  “Only you and I are left.” 

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”  Bucky rubbed Hemingway’s head.  “I helped train the others, the super soldiers that came after me.  They were bad, feral.”  

“The same with my pups.”  Hemingway shuddered.  “One litter tore their mother apart because the scientists didn’t realize they’d wean earlier.  They would listen to me, but no one else. And certainly no human.  They were all incinerated, written off as a bad project.  And they sent me back out with you.”  

“The pups that Jack and Rose, and Caesar and Snuggles had all seem ok.  They listen.  They’re playful, and even tempered.”  Bucky let his head fall back against the back of the couch.  

“Their serum was changed.” Hemingway yawned.  

“Think it would counteract whatever made your other pups go bad?” Bucky scratched his ears.  

“Why?” Hemingway lifted his head and narrowed his eyes.  

“Because I’ve seen the way Cleo fusses over you.”  Bucky snorted.  “I may not exactly speak dog, but she pays you more attention than anyone else in the pack.”  

Hemingway’s eyes went wide. 

“Ever stop to consider that maybe your pups weren’t born bad, but it was how Hydra and the Soviets were raising them?” Bucky looked at him.  “I was wiped, they had to fight to keep me compliant.  But those others, they all volunteered.  They wanted it.”  

“Maybe.”  Hemingway allowed.  

“Just saying, I think Cleo may make a play for you next time she’s, uh ,yeah.”  Bucky shrugged. 

“She may. I will talk to her.”  Hemingway sighed heavily.  “I do not know how I feel about the possibility.”  

“Think about it, pal.”  Bucky stretched his legs out in front of them.  “So, what’re we gonna make Steve order in for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading this. 
> 
> Just a heads up, next chapter starts real rough, too. Rougher. All the trigger warnings for the next chapter.


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